


Archer's Notes

by LearnToShareFeanor



Series: Drunk Texts [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: All Human AU, And sometimes they're nosy matchmakers, Cirdan and Freda are cops. I love an elf in uniform, Cirdan ships it, Cops are people too, Everybody thinks Legolas has it great. Cue chapter 2 and soul destroying., Faramir is BAMF archer, Faramir is GoodAdviceDuck but human, Gandalf is fed up with people saying good day, Gimli has to make his own choices and doesn't know what he wants, He is also as confusing as any elf, Kili and Gimli debate life on the other side, Kili ask questions he isn't ready for, Kili isn't sure what to do with the information he gets., Legolas is the captain of the archery team and Tauriel is co-captain, Multi, Referenced Bilbo/Thorin, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Sweet Nienna I'm writing a soap opera, Tauriel does not like bow ties (even though I think they're cool), The first chapter is NOT soul destroying, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, Trigger Warning: Divorce. Attempted but unsuccessful rape. Alcoholism. Infidelity. Weapon use., Trigger warnings: Vomiting due to stress. PTSD. Refusal of Medical Treatment. Abandonment issues., Trigger: Death due to cancer, but it is in the Drunk Texts Verse so the angst will come, cutting trigger, that awkward moment when you go to a girls house to ask her out and your mom answers the door
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnToShareFeanor/pseuds/LearnToShareFeanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in the Drunk Texts universe. Elladan and Elrohir are still in high school during Drunk Texts 2. School has just started, along with archery tryouts, and the new kid, Kili, has just been accepted. Kili muses on his teammates and captain, and wonders if the poor kid from the suburbs can ever really fit in. Tauriel hides underneath a shell of anger. Faramir knows everything- except for how to get what he wants. Legolas just tries to survive.</p><p>Ori and Dwalin are engaged, thanks to Erestor's meddling, Kili's dating his cousin's boss' daughter, and Fili doesn't know how to bridge the gap between his brother and the rich kids.</p><p>Semi-beta read by torinighthawk.</p><p>-ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kili

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there! Still working on chapter 7 of Courting Mishaps. It’s only about 1/3rd of the way done because I ended up having to scrap the entire thing as it was taking the story in an entirely different direction. I may use it as a little drabble, though, and change the names and setting. Bloody Texts belongs in the Drunk Texts universe, but it does bring in some new characters. Be warned, there will be references to self mutilation by cutting and running away in chapter two. As always the ‘main’ character- though none of the characters are less important than others in this series- is in chapter two. I’m not going to post both chapters of this together like I usually do because I want a vote. E/G Drunk Texts will still be in first person, when the chapter is from Erestor or Glorfindel’s point of view.  
> Just FYI, the End Note is being kind of weird, so I moved the edited part up here. EDIT: They are in a rich part of town, so next door is relative.  
> ‘Texting’- underlined and italicized  
> “Speaking”  
> ‘Thinking’- just italicized

                ‘ _That blond twat is lucky.’_ I groused to myself. He’d been warned by his family that he should stay away from any spawn of Thranduil’s. If they were all this ridiculously attractive and skilled at _everything_ , he could understand why. The most annoying part was that he didn’t know  _why_ he was so irritated! Archery tryouts were last week, and he’d been accepted. Since then, Legolas, the captain of the team, had been nothing but kind to him. He was nothing but kind to everyone, though, and he seemed especially kind to Tauriel.   
                Tauriel. The red-headed co-captain of the team was  _not_ nice at all. She was blunt, sassy, and when angry, reminded him of his uncle Dwalin, a Marine drill sergeant. But she was gorgeous, and he’d heard from some of the older members that she was always like this for the first few weeks, just to make the non-dedicated members of the team quit.   
                Kili was a Durin, and so most definitely  _not_ a quitter. He was genetically pre-disposed to wanting the most stubborn, angry, and downright vicious women, though. His attention was jerked back to the field when Elladan- or maybe Elrohir, they were twins, after all- fired a shot that landed just to the left of the bulls-eye. Immediately, Legolas went to correcting his stance, showing him how to shoot without jerking on the string at the last second, and Tauriel went to listing what all he’d done wrong.             

About half-way through, Legolas turned and said, “Tauriel- we were all beginners once. He knows what he did, he knows how to fix it now, there’s no more need to remind anyone.”

                The red-head looked as if she were going to snap something back when he interrupted her by calling “Next!”

                Oh no. It was his turn, and he wasn’t a 2-year veteran like the twins were. He moved up, praying to Mahal that Tauriel wouldn’t go all uncle Dwalin on him, and took his stance. Immediately, he knew it was wrong, and fixed it. Still, he felt eyes upon him. _‘Deep breaths’_ , he reminded himself. He was the best in his middle school team, just a place or two behind captain. But this is the high school, and these aren’t people from the inner-city district of Erebor. Most of these people will have hunted for a living using a bow and arrow, and that makes a kind of confidence that he just didn’t have. He aimed, corrected for the distance, and fired. The shot’s good, but he suddenly realized he’d forgotten to correct for wind. He’d always fired in a closed gym, never out in the middle of a field. The arrow hit the target, better than he had hoped. It was just about as close as Elladan’s, but this time skewed to the right.

                Immediately, he heard Tauriel begin listing some ‘common errors’, this time in a more controlled voice, and the willowy blonde came up behind him. “Hey. Erebor, right?” Legolas asked. He nodded, embarrassed beyond belief.

                “Okay. If we were in the practice gym, that probably would’ve been perfect.” The blonde adjusted his grip on the bow. “Bring it up, full draw.”

                Kili did so, slightly confused. He hadn’t had Elladan- or Elrohir- shoot again. “Your stance is good, so is your aim. Do you see the flag on the side of the school?”

                He glanced at the waving flags- US, then the state flag, then the school banner. Belatedly, he noticed they were moving. “Yes,” he admitted.

                “When the flags are moving towards us, you’ll correct up, like this.” He gently tugged both of the dark haired boys elbows upward. “This is because the wind is pushing down. It’s also going west, so you’re going to go a little eastward.” Seeing his confusion, he elaborated, “go right. North is behind us, south in front, west is left, east is right.”

                He nodded again, a bit more confident about it, now that he knew the problem. “Even when we’re in the practice gym, test for wind. If you do it every time, even when you don’t need to, it’ll become a habit, and you won’t have to think about it.”

                Legolas gestured him back to the rest, so he eased the tension on the string and did so. ‘ _Well,’_ he thought, ‘ _maybe he isn’t so bad. I reserve the right to judge on Tauriel, though.’_


	2. Legolas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who’s training the new guy on nights and wasn’t told about it beforehand? Yep! It’s me! So it’s looking like the next update to Courting Mishaps won’t be until November. Don’t worry, I’m still working on it, I promise! Meanwhile, here’s chapter 2 of Bloody Texts. This is the one with all of the dark stuff, so just a warning. This is the one with references to cutting and running away, if you don’t like it. Also, there is verbal child abuse and child abuse via neglect. Usually, I like to play Thranduil as the closed-off overprotective dad, but in this one, I’ll be going with fanon and making him an absolute ass.
> 
> This arc doesn't go two chapters only just because of the style of writing. Let me know what you think!

“Speaking”

‘texting or written notes'

‘ _thinking_ ’

Chapter 2: Legolas

                 _‘Why do I have to go home?’_  He thought mournfully, glancing up at the clock. Ordinarily, he loved professor Gandalf’s chemistry class- he almost always blew  _something_ up. Archery practice during free hour had finished a little while ago, and now he was stuck staring at a wall. Now the teacher was talking about moles for some reason, and chemistry always was his worst subject.

                Finally class was let out, but the gruff old teacher called him before the bell rang. “Legolas, if you can stay after class for a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

                For most teachers, this would be tantamount to announcing impending failure to a class, but not with Mr. Olorin. He demanded students call him Mr. Gandalf or professor Gandalf instead, and when a student was stopped, it was more likely because he found something that said student might be interested in than any actual problem. So Legolas found himself more curious than anything else- they’d been talking about the chemical composition of pitch recently, and the teacher had made a comment about how ‘fun and pretty’ arrows might look when lit on fire with the stuff.

                “Yes, sir?” The blonde asked politely. It didn’t matter that Mr. Olorin taught every year groups chemistry classes, and so he’d known the old man since he started high school. He was always going to be Mr. Olorin or Sir during class- only Gandalf outside of school. ‘ _Come to think of it, does he ever_ leave _?’_

He lowered bushy brows, and Legolas corrected himself. “Yes, Mr. Gandalf?”

                He harrumphed. “Now that’s better, isn’t it? I swear you’re more polite than Shire-folk, and some of them are truly ridiculous.”

                Caught off guard, he couldn’t stop the laugh. The Shire was a small farming community outside of town, and they were a step away from Amish. Most of them didn’t own any sort of vehicle but rode ponies or draft horses. Most of them were also almost comically small. They were nice people, though, and generally Legolas was stuffed full of delicious home-cooked food (they didn’t believe in fast food) every time he went anywhere  _near_  the Shire. Apparently, he looked half starved.

                “Oh, they’re not  _that_ bad, are they?”

                He shuffled around in the drawers of his desk and grumbled good-naturedly. “No, but one can never tell  _what_ they mean when they say good day.”

                The senior barely managed to suppress a grin. It was a well-known fact that Gandalf absolutely hated their way of saying ‘good day’ for everything- hello, goodbye, the weather’s nice isn’t it? “Well, at least they’re not Gothmog level stupid.” Gothmog, a self-proclaimed orc king, was on his 3rd repeat of his senior year.

                “Hmm, quite, quite. I say- now what did I want to talk to you about again?” He shook his head, amused at the forgetfulness. He was rather infamous about getting side-tracked. Unfortunately, unlike most teachers who taught out of the book, Mr. Olorin might just have a test over what they’d been side-tracked on, if it was topical. “Ah, yes. I wanted to ask you, my boy, is everything quite alright at home?”

                He fought the instinct to tense- no doubt Gandalf would pick up on it. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Everything’s good.”

                One of those eyebrows rose in suspicion. “Are you sure? You are aware that you can speak with me, or any other teacher here, yes?”

                He nodded. ‘ _No I can’t.’_  “Yes, si- Mr. Gandalf. I know.”

                He looked at him with those strange blue and grey eyes, and he had the uncomfortable sensation of being picked apart, like one of Mr. Elrond’s frogs. “Very well, you can go. But Legolas- at least try to pay attention in class next time, hm?”

                He flushed. “Sorry sir, I will.”

               He quickly exited the room, and hurried down the hall. Hopefully, he could catch up to Tauriel before she had to leave, and they could walk home together. She lived next door, and while she was often brash and unforgiving at first, he could honestly say that she was the best friend he’d ever had. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw a head of red hair in a long braid down her back. Her parents were Pentecostal, and while they respected that she had a very different set of beliefs, they still refused to allow he to cut her hair. Even braided, it hung down nearly to her thighs.

                “Tau! How’s it going?” He called, linking an arm with hers out of pure habit, and grunted as she playfully elbowed him.

                “About the same as it was after practice.” She joked, and they began to leave the school. “What did Gandalf want to talk to you about?”

                He shrugged. “The usual- is everything okay at home? Blah blah blah, talk to me, blah blah blah. Teachers  _always_  do that.”

                She nodded, tugged him off the road forcefully, and pressed his back against a tree. Without any warning, she pulled off the twin arm guards he wore for archery. People assumed that he wore them constantly due to his love of archery- and that was what he said when he was asked. The reality, however, was much darker. Most of the marks on his wrists were pale, thin stripes, but two of them were still red, and there was a bandage on one wrist.

“Legolas!” She hissed in rage. “You  _said_  you’d stop!”

He glanced around, realizing that they were well and truly alone. “Look, Tauriel, it’s just something that helps me. I don’t do it before competitions or anything, and I never cut deep enough to damage any tendons-“

                She interrupted him by stomping a few steps away, and then rushing right back to him. “SERIOUSLY?!  _That’s_ what you think I’m worried about? Your _archery_? I’m worried about  _your_ dumb blonde ass hurting yourself!”

                He swallowed, and desperately tugged one of the wrist guards from her fists, slipping it back on and knotting it. “I’m sorry, it’s just- it helps me, okay? Can you try to understand that?”

                She tossed the other guard at his chest and stood glaring at him, a tear escaping. ‘ _Oh no,’_  he thought. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. ‘ _What’s wrong with me? I ruin everything._ ’ Hurriedly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Tau- Tau, it’s okay, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise.”

                “That’s the problem.” She croaked. “I could deal with you being an ass- you’ve earned it with your dad and your brothers- but I can’t deal with  _this_ anymore.”

                A shiver of fear ran down his spine. “What do you mean?”

                “Look, Legolas, I just think you should get some help, or at least get away from your dad. If you won’t stop cutting, won’t leave, and won’t talk to anybody, I don’t know what I can  _do_.”

                Was she- if they were dating, he’d call that a breakup. “Please don’t leave, Tauriel, I can’t do this without you.” He hated begging, but he wasn’t above doing it. Not if it kept Tauriel as his friend, by his side.

                She sighed, and there was something defeated in the sound. He didn’t like it- Tauriel was too wild, too rash to be depressed, to be like him. “I’m not leaving, Legs. I’ll be right here.” She assured him. Then, some of the familiar fire entered her tone. “But I’m telling Gandalf and the school councilor tomorrow. You need help, and I can’t give it to you.”

                She moved away from him and walked quickly towards the road again. “Tau! Don’t do that, please.” He had to jog to catch up to her, but she simply shook her head, tight lipped until he grabbed her arm. “Tau, do you know what my dad will do to me if he even  _thinks_ I’ve told anyone? The first person the school is going to call is him, and I’m a dead man walking.”

                The redhead buried her face in her hands and let out a half-scream of rage. “God  _damn_ it! Then just do  _something_  Legolas, seriously. I can’t take this much more.”

                Something snapped in him. “ _You_  can’t take it? You live in a safe home-“

                “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

                “With parents who love you-“

                “Legolas,  _please_ -“

                “And God knows how many friends because you don’t have to pick and choose who might just start talking, and  _you_ can’t take it?” He was yelling by the end of it, but he didn’t care at this point. They were alone; no one was around to hear. Immediately, his stomach turned. He’d just yelled at one of his few friends. She was looking at him curiously, not the hate and disgust that he usually associated with talking back in any form.

                “You know, that’s the first time that I’ve ever heard you get angry? Seriously- stupid bullies, new trainees, your dad, the twins alone,  _and_ their crazy psycho drinking buddy- and this is the first time you’ve ever really gotten angry that I can think of.”

                “You’re not mad at me?” 

                She rolled her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m not mad. Jeez. But what are you going to do about him? You can’t just stay here.”

                Legolas suddenly found the grass and leaves at his feet incredibly interesting and shrugged. “I don’t know.” His eyes widened as he caught sight of her watch, and he tugged her wrist up, cursing. “I’ve got to go, it’s almost 4.”

                “Yeah, yeah, just go. Don’t forget to text me tonight!” She called to his retreating shoulder. He waved at her distractedly and broke into a jog until he reached his home.  His home, and the reason he knew no one could do anything- his dad was the mayor.

                He unlocked and opened the door as quietly as possible. On days he was late, he could usually sneak upstairs and pretend he was there by the time his dad decided to check. He almost wept in relief when he saw the note pinned to refrigerator.

                ‘Legolas. Have dinner ready when I get home. Council’s running late, I might not be home till 5 or 6.

                                                                -Thranduil’

                Some people might be angry at the dismissive tone, but he simply accepted it, preferring disinterest to the acid that came dripping from his father’s tongue at times. Without delay, he set on making dinner, hoping that his father would eat and let him be for the rest of the night.

                Unfortunately, his luck didn’t last. He didn’t forget to text Tauriel- cell phones just weren’t allowed in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/26 update: fixed some minor spelling/grammar issues.


	3. Tauriel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, it looks like the new guy isn’t going to make it. He types about 25 WPM, and we require a bare minimum of 40, and he doesn’t take notes on any of the systems. He’s also pissing EVERYBODY off. 
> 
> Chapter 3, as promised! The name puns- Sauron and Satan is pretty obvious, but if you haven’t read the Silmarillion, Sauron goes by Annatar for a while. Torinighthawk beta'd for me! All hail her excellence! She also pointed out some regional (SE Texas) things that I use that people not from the area might not get, and got me to fix them. 
> 
> Some of the notes (including about the ages) are going to be at the end of this one to avoid spoilers. Now, as for trigger issues: Referenced child abuse (Legolas and Erestor), referenced divorce (Glorfindel and his ex-wife), referenced drug abuse (Glorfindel's ex-wife), Tauriel is a potty mouth. Not as bad as Erestor, but she's getting there.

 ‘ _thinking’_

‘ _Written notes or texts_ ’

“Speaking”

* * *

 

 

 

                “Hi! You’ve reached the voicemail of Legolas Greenleaf. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll call you back.”

                “Hi! You’ve reached the voicemail of Legolas Greenleaf. Leave a-“

                “Hi! You’ve re-“

                “Goddammit Legolas, pick up your fucking phone.” Tauriel growled to herself. She wasn’t sure why, but around 10 at night, she’d picked up her phone and began to text her best friend. He wouldn’t answer, and an hour later, she was desperately calling him. Nothing.

                Biting her lip, she glanced into her mom’s room. Knocking lightly, she called. “Hey mom, I know it’s late, but I think something’s wrong with Legolas.” There wasn’t a response, so she stepped into the room, using her phone screen as a light, and swore when she found the bottle of pills by her bed. Her mom over-did it on the insomnia meds, as usual.

                She left the room and shut the door behind her, and debated her phone again. Maybe her dad? He might be asleep too, but at least he didn’t drug up. Or not usually. And he worked nights at his gym anyway. She was hesitant to wake him up, but another few minutes without a response made her decision.

                “Dad? Hey, I think Legolas is in trouble. I know it’s late, but I really need some help.”

                “I know, but mom’s asleep, and-“ she debated for a second, and decided that even though it was a lie, it wasn’t a huge stretch. “Look, Legolas is suicidal and he was talking about ending it, and now I can’t reach him.”

                Within 20 minutes, a horn honked from the driveway, and she practically flew out of the house.

                It wasn’t a long drive, only a few minutes to Legolas’ house, but every minute seemed like an eternity. Her father, the man who always preached ‘drive safe, drive safe, drive safe’, ran 3 stop-signs and one stop light, honking at anyone who went the speed limit or lower.

                By the time they arrived, they weren’t the only ones there- three police cars and an ambulance littered the immaculate lawn, and she saw Legolas’ dad (i.e., the Blonde Bastard, trademark), being shoved into the back of one of them, hands cuffed behind his back. There was blood on his night robe.

                Disregarding her father, she dashed to the ambulance. “Is Legolas in there? Is he okay?”

                 _‘Stupid question’_ , she berated herself, ‘ _there’s an ambulance.’_

                “Look, ma’am, if Legolas is his son, he is in here, and we have to go  _now_.” Without another word, the driver flung open the door and sped away, sirens wailing, lights flashing.

                

 

                 “What did you do!?” She shrieked at the man in the cop car. An officer came up politely but firmly placing her hand on her arm.

                “Ma’am,” she began, “You have to stay behind the line. This is now an active crime scene."

                “Is he-“ her world was spinning, and she croaked out, “Did he kill him? Is he dead?” Logically, she knew that Thranduil was a nutcase and could have killed just about anyone, but everything was moving quickly, and her mind was unable to keep up, dragging behind an aching and worried heart.

                “No one is dead right now, that’s all I can tell you. If you follow the ambulance, they’re going to the hospital; you can wait for news there.” The cop continued suggesting other things, among them wait for the news (of all things!), but Tauriel had pretty much stopped listening; her mind elsewhere until she realized her father was speaking to her.  

                “Tauriel, come on, we’ve got to go. I’m sorry about your friend, but we need to get out of here.”

                “They said he might be okay, we  _have_ to go to the hospital-“

                “Honey, I know you’re worried, but take my advice. You need to get some rest, you’ll think better in the morning.”

                She turned to face him. “I can’t  _sleep_! He’s- god, what if he  _dies_?” That was all it took to set her off, tears were running down her face, her throat was choked, and if another cop hadn’t moved in between her and the car Thranduil was in, she’d be taking the crowbar from her dad’s truck and blowing off some steam with his face.

                She found herself held tightly and then picked up, like when she was a little girl and passed out in the back of her father’s truck from too much sugar. “Come on, baby, we’ll go to the hospital, but you’ve got to get in the truck first.” Her dad said soothingly.

                The drive to Legolas’ place had felt achingly slow. Now, though they were going the speed limit, and the distance was almost twice as long, it seemed to be no more than an eye-blink before they were there. In fact, she didn’t realize they had arrived until her dad tucked a spare jacket around her shoulders and was tugging her out of the vehicle. Soon they- well, her dad, really- let the nurse know who they were waiting on, and took a place in the waiting room. Despite her struggle, she ended up nodding off, and waking up curled into his shoulder.

                Everything felt fuzzy, but clear at the same time, and she stared with an odd fixation at the many colorful ‘ _Do’s and Don’t’s of Cold and Flu season!_ ’, ‘ _Stop Smoking: It’s for your health_ ’, and ‘ _Good hygiene can save lives!_ ’ posters on the walls. “I called your mom.”

                The familiar voice jolted her from her empty thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

                He shifted in the uncomfortable chair and mumbled something about his truck being more comfortable to sleep in. “Called your mom; let her know where you were. The school knows you’re not going, but your math teacher, Mr. Sauron, says you’ll have to take the 10 point penalty on some group project if you don’t show up today.” 

                She shrugged. “Mr. Satan can suck it.” The redhead mumbled, and was surprised by her father’s snort.

                “God, you still call the old bastard that? We used to call him Mr. Satan and Professor Andimawhore all the time.”

                “Really? He must be older than Gandalf.” She croaked. He offered her a half-empty bottle of Sprite, and she took it eagerly, making a face at the flatness.

                “Pretty sure they’re around the same age. But Gandalf could be older than Moses for all I know.” They sat in a companionable silence for a while, and she enjoyed it. Her mom was always talking unless she was strung out, but her dad was quiet. It was nice, she decided, to be able to be quiet once in a while.

                “Did they say anything about Legolas?” She asked hesitantly, looking up at him. Her dad looked tired, blonde hair in a messy ponytail, circles under his eyes.

                “Well, at around 3 this morning, they got him out of the E.R. He’s in ICU right now, critical condition. Nurse said it looks like his dad took a baseball bat to him.”

                She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, ignoring the nurse’s pointed look for having her feet on the chairs. “Not that I’m complaining, but he isn’t really suicidal, is he?”

                Tauriel swallowed. “No.” She said in a small voice. “He cuts, but he doesn’t- he doesn’t do that.”

                She heard her father shift again, and those little creaks that reminded her- he wasn’t 20 anymore, he couldn’t be carrying her around like she was 3 again. “So why,” he said, picking his words carefully, “did you tell me he was?”

                She picked at the sleeve of the big hoodie she wore. She was barely a 1X, and most of that was thanks to her shoulders. She swam in her dad’s big 3X. ‘ _Glorfindel  Columbine, Fitness Instructor and Personal Trainer, Gondolinian Fitness Center’._ The word stared at her from the embroidery, and she decided that it was probably how one decided if it was a “rich person gym” or a ”broke person gym”. Generally, cheap gyms didn’t  _have_  personal trainers, and certainly didn’t have tailored embroidered jackets.

                “Honey?”

                “He said his dad was getting worse.” She said softly, still staring at the jacket. “And that he didn’t know what his dad would do to him if he thought he told anybody about what’s happening.”

                She heard him suck in a breath. “Talk about having a bad time of it.” He responded, thinking back to the times he’d met her friend. At first, he’d thought they were dating, but they’d both denied it. Which, of course, only made him think they were dating  _more_. He seemed like a nice kid, a little quiet. Something nagged at him. ‘ _He has that thing that Erestor does- the whole never meet your eyes, hide in plain sight thing_ ’. His stomach turned, and he began to wonder if Erestor’s childhood was just as bad- he’d never spoken of it.

                “Gandalf and another teacher, Mrs. Galadriel- they called me into the teacher’s lounge with Mr. Elrond about a month ago.”

                He made a noise, realizing where her thoughts were going. “Honey, if Legolas didn’t tell you until yesterday, you couldn’t have known that his old man would react like that.”

                She hated herself for crying again. ‘ _I might have just got my best friend killed, and here I am, acting like_ I  _deserve any sympathy.’_ “But he got hurt, and it’s because of me! I could have got him killed, just because I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

                He tugged her into his lap, rocking her back and forth. “No, no, you didn’t do that, his father did. It’s not your fault.”     He didn’t know how long it took her to fall asleep, but he was intensely grateful to any deities that were watching that she had. He’d never really cared that much for Carolyn, but all it took was one tear from his daughter’s eyes, and he was ready to raise hell. Unfortunately, this was not a ‘raise hell’ situation. With that in mind, he carefully moved her back to the seat and went to check with the nurses again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now as for the ages: Glorfindel is 38, Erestor is 24- he looks a little older, which is a common symptom of alcoholism, and Tauriel is 17. Carolyn, Tauriel’s mother, (yes, she’s an OC) is 37. Legolas is 17 as well, but his birthday is coming up in a few months. 
> 
> Fin is a lesson in the whole 'it only takes once' thing. The first time he slept with Tauriel’s mom at around 20-21 ish, she got pregnant, and it was a shotgun wedding followed shortly by a shotgun divorce. Tauriel prefers her dad, but got stuck with her mom (she was only 4 when they got divorced), and you’ll hear more about that later.  
> Glorfindel didn’t get along with his father at all, but when he died, he was an only child, so he got everything, including a resort and spa which he fixed up, hired an accountant for, ect. You’ll hear more about the Gondolinian Fitness Center, I promise.  
> Update: 11/15- fixed some small grammar issues


	4. Kili II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, this takes place directly after Chapter 3- same day, in fact. On the team size: I looked up competitive archery stuff, and apparently a good number is 10. If I’m wrong, please let me know so that I can fix it! The team members are Legolas, Tauriel, Haldir, Orophin, Rumil, Faramir, Kili, Bard, Aragorn, and Halbarad.  
> The first 3/4 of this was beta read, anything after that was read by yours truly. Please let me know what you think, and if you see any mistakes, let me know!   
> Reviews make me a happy Feanor, and help me continue!

“Speaking”

‘ _thinking’_

‘ _written notes or texts_ ’

 

* * *

 

                Kili quietly made his way across the practice field to where the rest of the team sat on the bleachers. The twins, usually spouting some bawdy joke, were silent and withdrawn. Orophin seemed normal, if a little sad- but then again, he usually only spoke when spoken to. Haldir, the most competitive behind Tauriel, hadn’t even bothered to bring out the arrows, and his youngest brother, Rumil, hadn’t brought out the bows. Bard paced in obvious distress up and down the field, Aragorn watching him from the top of the stands. Halbarad was the only one seeming to do anything productive, wiping down the leather wrist guards and re-stringing them. Faramir, their best speed-shooter besides Legolas, sat leaning against a tree a few feet away, pulling up blades of grass and weaving them into shapes. He chose to sit next to Faramir, and they were quiet for a few moments.

                “Do we know how Legolas is holding up?” He asked softly, afraid to break the silence.

                Instead of answering, Faramir simply shook his head. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Tauriel’s at the hospital. Said she’d text us if she heard anything.”

                He nodded and watched the older student weave a particularly long blade of grass into a braid with several others. “How’s everybody doing?”

                Faramir let the grass fall from his hands and let his head fall to the tree, sighing. “My old man plays favorites something fierce. Generally ignores me, but he’s never hit me or any crap like that. And I thought I had it bad.”

                Kili looked down, finding the laces of his shoes suddenly interesting. “Sorry.” He said softly.

                Faramir didn’t immediately respond- not that Kili had expected it. The curly haired archer thought quickly and spoke slowly. The result was that many thought he was ‘special’- until he opened his mouth. “’S okay. Halbarad keeps hoping it’s some sick joke.” ‘ _That explains the wrist guards’_ , Kili thought to himself. “Dan ‘n Ro were talking about some friend they had- someone who had it worse than Legolas- then they shut up.”

                “Something worse?” He asked, looking up.

                Faramir nodded. “Apparently he was always in ‘n out of the hospital. Said he had more scars than Frankenstein, everywhere but his face.”

                He couldn’t think of any response to that, so he simply said the first thing that came to mind. “Damn.”

                The taller boy ‘hmm’d’ in agreement. “Rumil was crying earlier. Nobody said anything, so don’t bring it up.”

                “I won’t.” He promised. ‘ _The last thing any of us needs is to turn on one another’_. “Everybody else?”

                “Orophin threw up. The brothers are going home early.”

                “Can’t blame them. Bard and Aragorn?”

                Faramir was quiet, but after speaking with him a while, Kili had begun to realize that Faramir probably knew more about them than they knew themselves. At first, the whole staring thing had creeped him out. Badly. Now? Now, it was just something he associated with Faramir, and while he still wasn’t as relaxed about it as the rest of the team, it was no longer creepy or unsettling. “Bard’s pissed, got kicked out of class earlier today. Aragorn- Aragorn is Aragorn, you know?”

                He didn’t, and had no problem admitting it.  _‘That’s another thing,’_ he reflected. ‘ _He never makes fun of anybody._ ’ “He’s quiet. Making sure that nobody gets too crazy.”

                Kili nodded. “Well, that covers most of us. You?”

                Faramir made a noise of surprise. Most people didn’t ask about Faramir- next to his brother, Boromir, he was easy to ignore and forget. “I don’t know. Okay, I guess. Worried.”

                “Yeah?” He asked. “Me too.” ‘ _Maybe,’_  he thought, ’ _I need to change the way I think about Tauriel. She can’t be so bad if she’s up there waiting in the hospital for him.’_

                He swallowed and glanced around, but of all the people he could ask, Orophin, Haldir, and Rumil were heading to a car on the other side of the field where it turned into parking lot, and none of the rest looked particularly inviting. The twins looked especially guilty. ‘ _Maybe they couldn’t help their friend?’_ He wondered, and decided that Faramir was probably the best person to ask anyway. “Tauriel is always so…” He searched for a word, and settled on “rough”. “Has she always been like that? I mean, it doesn’t seem like they could be friends, she’s…rough, and Legolas- well, he  _isn’t_.”

                Faramir shifted and pulled out a bottle of water from his bag, taking a sip. If he were at home, with Fili and his family, he’d be irritated at the obvious stalling. He was truly surprised that Faramir hadn’t done so already. Finally, he answered. “Big question. Yeah, she’s- she’s summer. Warm, can burn you if you’re not careful.” Faramir considered what he’d just said and nodded. “Legolas is winter. Little soft when the snow hits. Still hurts, if you give him a reason to, but not too bad. Summer doesn’t mean anything without winter, and the same in reverse.”

                Kili snickered. “Sorry, man, it’s just- I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many words all at once.”

                To his relief, Faramir didn’t seem to be offended. “Don’t say anything when I don’t have anything to say.”

                He nodded and made himself more comfortable against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes. He felt Faramir watching him, and figured he’d do that until he found someone more interesting to look at. “Don’t try too hard.” He said, interrupting the silence.

                Kili opened his eyes and blinked in shock. “What?”

                “With Tau. Don’t. She’s got her own issues, everybody does. Be her friend, but don’t push her.”

                ‘ _Does he know?_ ’ Kili wondered. “Look, I’m not going to try and hurt her or anything.”

                Faramir continued to watch him, and responded, “You won’t  _try_  to. But you might.”

                He nodded, slowly, and was grateful when Aragorn called both of their names. “Hey! Get over here!”

                Kili had stood up and was halfway to the bleachers by the time Faramir had risen, and so reached Aragorn first. “What’s up?”

                Aragorn shook his head, and waited until Bard came down and Faramir got on the bleachers to speak. “I just got a text from Tauriel. Take a look.”

                ‘ _Legs is out of the E.R. They’ve got him in a room, it wasn’t as bad as it looked ’_.

                He heard one of the twins mumble “Thank God”, and then Aragorn’s phone vibrated again and he had a new text.

                ‘ _His dad’s in jail right now, my Dad is trying to find out what they charged him with. Legs won’t be shooting for a while, lower right arm is broken. Shattered his left knee, broke both legs. Doctors say he’ll recover, won’t be fun though. ’_

                The twins were visibly relieved, and Aragorn typed in a message. ‘ _That’s good. How are you holding up?_ ’

                ‘ _Let’s just say I’m tired. My Dad’s forcing me to go home, I’ll talk to you later. Let the rest of the guys know they can come visit in a few days._ ’

                “Well thank the Gods for small miracles, huh?” Bard asked rhetorically.

                “No kidding.” Elrohir- or maybe Elladan, Kili still wasn’t sure- responded.

                A bell rang across the field, and Aragorn shouldered his bag. “Last bell, I’d better get going. Halbarad, don’t forget to put those up, you know what the football team did to them last time.”

                Kili fought a snicker at the dirty look Halbarad aimed at him. “One time! One time I forgot about the wrist guards, and I’ll never live it down, will I?”

                “Never!” Aragorn called in response, and Bard rolled his eyes, bending down to help him re-pack the oils they had to use on the leather, the strings, and, of course, the leather arm-guards themselves. Kili decided to help as the twins were already jogging down the bleachers and heading towards the school itself, probably to get their sister, and caught Faramir staring again as he stood back up. But he wasn’t staring at him.

                Kili followed his gaze and fought a grin. Eowyn- she worked with the big draft horses and some of the smaller ponies out in the Shire, and was, according to Tauriel, the ‘greatest gift our soccer team could ask for’. “She’s pretty. You have a name?”

                “Yeah. Faramir.”

                He looked up sharply at the other boy. “Did you just make a joke?” He asked incredulously.

                Faramir smiled a little. “Her name is Eowyn. Her brother is terrifying.”

                “Hey!” Bard called from the little shack near the field used for archery, soccer, and baseball equipment. “You know what Eomer said about the next time he caught you staring. Let’s go, everything’s packed up.”

                Faramir headed down obediently, after casting a last, wistful look at the blonde girl, and Kili followed, laughing all the way. ‘ _Who would have thought Faramir would do something so normal?’_ Once they hit the field, however, they all split up. Halbarad headed to the streets, and the apartment he and his mom shared across their small town. Faramir went the long way across the field to wait for the football team to finish practice, as his brother, Boromir, was the team captain. He and Bard walked together, away from the ‘you better be a genius or rich’ school of Rivendell High, and to the dingier side of town, closer to Erebor High- an inner city public school. Around there, they split, Bard heading towards the last ‘nice’ place on this side of town, and Kili continued from the mansions and old houses to the nice suburbs, then the middle class area, and finally hit _his_ neighborhood. His home was the biggest on the street, but only because they had absolutely no yard, and extra rooms had been added on through the years. He glanced back uptown, as if he could see the school, and shook his head, fighting off bitter thoughts. ‘ _Who am I kidding? I’ll never fit in there.’_


	5. Legolas II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I promise, I will have the new chapter of Courting Mishaps up soon! Unfortunately, I’ve written two different versions of chapter 10, and I’m not sure which one to go with. I’ve sent the best to my beta, and when she gets a chance to proofread it, it shall be added!   
> Without further ado, here’s Archers Notes chapter 5. This takes place after Drunk Texts 3: Slightly Sober (I Wish I Wasn’t). You don’t have to read it to understand this chapter.  
> Okay, I know the last name is weird, so here’s a little history for it. Freitas- Portuguese, it means ‘broken’. Traditionally, it’s for someone who lives on broken ground (stony). I thought both meanings applied well for Legolas and Thranduil. Legolas with a broken body, Thranduil with a broken mind.   
> On the penalties that I reference with this, I am consulting several sources, including www.attorneys.com, http://www.domestic-violence-law.com/jail-time/, and several other sites. This does vary state to state, so I’m just doing an average here.

“Speaking”

‘ _Thinking_ ’

‘ _Texting or written notes ’_

* * *

When Legolas opened his eyes, he didn’t know quite what to expect. A part of him thought he should be staring at the ceiling, preparing to disguise the bone-deep ache as a flu or something. At least his house had stairs, so he could always claim to have fallen down. That excuse only worked so many times, though, and he’d started getting odd looks about it when he joined the archery team in Freshman year. After watching just one competition, there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that he was quite agile.

                He reached his hand up to rub one of his eyes and realized that he was tied down. Panic gripped him before he glanced to side and saw, instead of restraints, tubes leading to an IV. He sighed in relief, and noticed a beeping noise. A heart monitor. ‘ _Oh no,’_ he thought desperately, ‘ _Dad’s going to kill me.’_ He could hide a few bruises, stay home a day with the excuse of being sick if they were on his face, but there was nothing he could do for a hospital visit. He swallowed and thought on his story.

                ‘ _Maybe I fell on the stairs again? No, done it too often. I got beat up on the way home! Yes, that’s a good one- oh, but they’ll ask for statements.’_ Mind whirling with thoughts, he didn’t hear the door open.

                “Mr. Freitas?” He looked towards the doorway and immediately regretted moving his head so quickly. His vision swam and stomach churned for a moment, and by then, the nurse was by his bedside. “Try not to move too quickly, young man, the morphine can make you dizzy.”

                He tried to apologize, but his throat simply crackled, refusing to allow the noise to escape. He heard water being poured and felt something warm slip under his head, lifting it up. He opened his eyes once more when he felt plastic touch his mouth. “All right,” the nurse said kindly, “try and drink this slowly. Don’t go too fast.”

                It took him an embarrassingly long time to drain the cup, but this time he managed a ‘thank you’.

                She nodded and re-filled the cup, placing it on a side-table. “There you go, so you don’t have to reach so far for it next time. There are some people who want to talk to you. Do you feel up to seeing them?” Legolas glanced at her face and found pity there- oh, how he hated the pity! Anger he could handle, empathy was wonderful, even sympathy was fine, but not pity. Never pity.

                He nodded and managed to hide his sickening reaction. “Yes, I- I think I can.” A thought came to him, and as she was leaving he asked, “Is it my dad?”

                Legolas tried to focus his eyes on her, but focusing just wasn’t something he could do at this moment. “No, your father is-“ She seemed to fight for a word, and settled on “-occupied.”

                He frowned, confused. Who else would come visit him? He heard his phone vibrating and turned his head the other way to see a pair of shredded pants on a chair. His frown deepened when he realized that those were _his_ pants. ‘ _What happened to me?’_ He wondered. He could vaguely recall making dinner- apparently his father had wanted something different- and then….nothing. He could _feel_ the memories spinning in his head, it was just as if he couldn’t reach up and catch them.

                A firm knock rang off of the open door and he shifted around again after trying- and failing- to sit up. Black pants, blue shirt, and a shiny badge. Oh yay, a cop! Dread filled him. What should he do? The officer looked down at something- Legolas couldn’t quite see it, but he thought it might be a notebook- and asked, “Legolas Freitas?”

                “Yes.” He answered, deeming it wise to let the cop do the talking. After all, he could just give yes or no answers, and that would allow him to have less to remember. He wasn’t sure he could remember a lot of lies right now. He tried to force himself up to a sitting position, but pain lanced through his right arm, and he inhaled sharply before bringing it up to his face. He winced at seeing the thick cast- this was the arm he held his bow with. If this arm had broken- how could he bring it to full draw?

                “You seem a little distracted right now,” the officer said, interrupting his flittering and fluttering thoughts, “But we need a statement as soon as possible. Can you tell me how this happened?”

                His voice had a no-nonsense tone, and all of Legolas’ good intentions flew away in a hurry. “I fell down the stairs.” He rasped, unaware that, due to the morphine, it was obvious to just about anyone that he was lying.

                The officer moved around the bed, sat the shredded remains of his clothing on the ground, and took a seat. He nodded, and the blonde hoped that his words had convinced him. His hopes, unfortunately, were to be denied today. “Do you know how often I hear that in domestic abuse cases?” The officer asked dryly. “Can you tell me what happened- and this time, the truth?”

                Legolas was silent. Wouldn’t it be better for him to wait until he was more in control of himself? The officer showed no signs of waiting, however. “You can call my officer Cirdan. Let me tell you how this is going to go.” He shifted and brought his notebook into full view. “We can say that you fell down the stairs, and then your dad is going to come back, and you’re going to _keep_ falling down the stairs until you accidentally fall off the roof.” He was silent for a moment before continuing, in a much less sharp tone of voice, “Or, Legolas, you can tell me _exactly_ what happened. We can keep your dad behind bars where he belongs, and you don’t ever have to fall down the stairs again.”

                ‘ _What should I do?’_ He wondered, and heard the beeping speed up. “Can you promise me that? Or are you just saying that it’s what you want to happen?”

                Officer Cirdan watched him carefully. “If we’re able to take him to court before you turn 18, he’s got a minimum of 30 days for abuse of a minor. It can go up to around 20 years as it’s repeated abuse. You’ll have a restraining order for him, he won’t be able to see you, talk to you, or anything else for that amount of time. I’m hoping to stall it until you’re 18- just a few months.”

                “Why?” He asked, confused.

                “If we wait until you’re 18, we’ll charge him with attempted manslaughter. That’s a minimum sentence of 10 years, the judges here are usually pretty tough on things, so they’ll probably give him the full 25-30. You’ll still have the restraining order, but after he’s finished his sentence, we’ll be able to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

                He swallowed and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Should he allow himself to hope? “What if you don’t?” He asked fearfully. “What if- no matter how hard you try, you can’t get him on one of those? What happens then?”

                Cirdan waited uncomfortably- he never liked this question. Generally, when someone asked it, they were trying desperately to keep from telling the truth. “If we can’t, we still have proof that he has committed abuse of a minor, and with your medical records, I _can_ guarantee that they’ll charge him with child abuse, even without the repeated issue. 30 days jail time, he’ll no longer have any rights over you, and you can file a restraining order.

                “So it’s the same, pretty much- just different jail times.” Legolas said, trying to make sense of it.

                “Yeah, pretty much. If we wait to try him until you turn 18, though, I’d recommend finding a friend to stay with after you’re released from the hospital.”

                Ideas buzzed in an out of his head, and he thought of a thousand ways he could avoid all of this- but he had made a promise. ‘” _Just do something, Legolas, I can’t take this much more.”’_ “You and me both, Tau.” He mumbled.

                “Excuse me?” Cirdan asked, slightly confused.

                “Isn’t there something about not taking statements when under the influence of mind altering medication?” He asked instead.

                There was silence, and he looked up to see Cirdan staring at him. “I take it you’ve went through this before.”

                There wasn’t a question in the officer’s voice, but he answered anyway. “Once or twice. If you can wait until that stuff wears off, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

                Now that he had said the words, a certain bravery and determination filled him. He could _do_ this. He could get away from his father, away from everything that hurt him- if he could trust this cop. 


	6. Legolas III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it’s been a while for updates, but in my defense, I’m still waiting on my beta for Courting Mishaps. She’s super busy right now, so I may end up posting it later this week, and just going back in later to fix any grammar issues.   
> Now, as for Archer’s Notes and the future of ALL of the Drunk Texts series: This started off as just a single prompt. I never intended to write another one- Drunk Texts 2. I never planned on Drunken Lullabies, or Archer’s Notes. But as I’m doing it now, I’m going to start doing it the right way. As you may have read in the notes for the last chapter and in the comments, I’m doing research for these, both with domestic abuse websites online and with actual people. I’ve found something surprising. In books and movies, most marriages are at least mostly happy, but it’s not the case in real life. I’d like to thank the people at the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (US) for some of the statistics referenced in this chapter, and throughout the rest of this series. Here’s one that may hit home to people with a lot of homelessness in their area: In the US, domestic violence is the 3rd leading cause among homelessness with families.   
> TRIGGER WARNINGS- Detailed child abuse. PTSD. Panic attacks. Being interrogated by police. Vomiting due to stress. Willful refusal of medical treatment- in this case, pain medication. If you read this and spot anything that I, personally, do not see as a trigger, but triggers you, please inform me in the comments so that I can add it to the tags. I don’t want to hurt anyone.   
> PTSD- a common misconception is that it is only for soldiers. This is completely false. Anyone who has been in a situation where fear rules over anything else, causing mental and emotional trauma, can develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That’s why it’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and not Soldier’s Disease.   
> If you are in an abusive relationship, I cannot stress this enough- get OUT. Nobody owns you. You are not lucky to be ‘loved’ by somebody who thinks they need to have all of your passwords all the time, and needs to know where you are every single minute of every day. You are not lucky that you have parents who love you when they beat the hell out of you, verbally, mentally, or emotionally hurt you. However, you ARE lucky if you are strong enough to say ‘no’. You ARE lucky if you have the strength and dignity to walk away from that relationship. You ARE lucky- and more than lucky- if you have never had to deal with domestic abuse. If you know someone who is constantly ‘falling down the stairs’, which, according to them, is a very common excuse, they may not be falling down. They may be calling out for YOU to help them, afraid to tell you what’s going on because their partner might find out.  
> Without further ado, the next chapter- I’m going to have some fluff later in Archer’s Notes, or in Drunk Texts, I promise, but it’s getting darker before it gets better. No quick fixes, I’m afraid.

“speaking”

‘ _thinking’_

_‘ Texting/written notes’_

 

                Pain hammered through the bones in his legs and right arm, throbbing unmercifully through the rest of his body. Even the small act of breathing was painful with his bruised ribs, and now that his body was empty of the beautiful Morphine, even blinking sent aches down his spine. It had been several hours since his meeting with officer- Cisco? Simon?- he couldn’t quite remember, but his second meeting was coming up soon. He had tried to let one of the helpful nurses, this time an older man in his early 50’s, assist him in sitting up, but that had turned out to be a bad idea. Now, he lay prone and cold in the hospital bed, listening to his heart monitor and the noise from the hall.

                There was a knock at his door, and the door opened without his permission. ‘ _Not that it matters,’_ he thought philosophically, ‘ _I can’t do anything anyway.’_

                It was an unpleasant feeling, he decided. Helplessness. He was used to it at home, but outside of his house, he could at least pretend to be in control. Not now, though, his father had taken even that illusion away from him.

                “Mr. Freitas, this is my partner, officer Freda.” The voice seemed loud in the room, and Legolas barely managed to turn his head. ‘ _That’s it- Cirdan.’_ The female officer was a young, strawberry blonde, who looked like she might be more at home at a college or high school than as an officer. Still, there was steel in her eyes.

                She was carrying an extra chair, and sat it near his bed. Cirdan closed the door and returned to the chair he’d occupied previously. “Your doctor says that the morphine is out of your system now.” The bearded man stated, pulling out some objects from a briefcase.

                “Wish it wasn’t.” Legolas returned. His voice was still soft and raspy, but he merely swallowed and waited. He had made his choice, and he wasn’t going to go back now. ‘ _I_ can’t _go back.’_ He reminded himself, ‘ _Dad is going to kill me this time if I do. This is the only choice.’_ His thoughts had followed this theme for the hours in which the officer had been gone, and he’d finally worked himself up to it. “I’d prefer to get this over with quickly, if that’s okay.” The idea that he might not have the courage to continue on later was left unsaid.

                “I understand.” The female officer said, assisting her partner in setting up the small camcorder. “We’re just waiting on your doctor at this point. We have to have a signed statement that you’re free of the medication before we can take your statement.”

                Legolas nodded and felt bile rise up. ‘ _Deep breaths.’_ He thought to himself, closing his eyes. ‘ _Once this is over, you won’t have to worry. All you’ll need to do is get better.’_

                Though it only took a few minutes for a doctor in a white coat to deliver a piece of paper on a clipboard, to Legolas, it felt like an hour. “Okay, you’re ready to begin. One of my staff is going to be outside the door, just in case. If you feel like you need something, just push the call button.” The doctor, who actually- now that he thought about it- looked almost _exactly_ like Mr. Elrond- then left, shutting the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of a young nurse before she took a seat on another extra chair and was out of his field of view.

                Cirdan cleared his throat. “We’re ready to start. Mr. Legolas Freitas, do you swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” He asked.

                “Yes.” He responded.

                “Good. We’re going to ask some yes and no questions here. If you don’t know, you can just say you don’t know.” Freda had a large pad and a pen in front of her. “You are 17 years old, correct?”

                “Yes.”

                “Your father’s name is Thranduil Freitas, correct?”

                “Yes.” ‘ _What is this for? They already know this stuff.’_

                “Have you ever been physically abused by your father?”

                “That should be pretty obvious.” He stated, a little confused.

                “Please just answer the question.” Cirdan stated, and Freda repeated herself.

                “Yes, I have been physically abused by my father.”

                She nodded, and continued on.  “Is this the first time that he has ever hit you?”

                Worry filled his gut. ‘ _What if he finds out- he already knows, Legolas, get it together.’_ ”No.”

                “Has he ever emotionally and verbally abused you? This includes name-calling, insults, neglect, and invasion of privacy.”

                He swallowed, the words bringing to mind memories that he’d rather forget. “Yes.” He croaked.

                “Has your father ever isolated you from other family members, friends, or people in general?”

                How many times had he been forced to either not go to a friend’s house, or face the risk of bringing said friend to his home? “Yes.”

                She was quiet for a moment. “Thank you. Now we’re going to move on to some more difficult questions. If you need a moment, just let us know.”

                Both officers waited for him to agree, and then Cirdan took over the questioning. “How many times do you estimate that your father has hit you to the point of needing medical attention? This can just be bad bruising or lacerations, not necessarily broken bones.”

                Shame crashed down on him like a wave- she hadn’t been joking when she’d said ‘more difficult.’ He was his father’s height almost, and certainly stronger. He should have been able to defend himself. “I-“ He had to take another deep breath, and he felt tears burning behind his eyelids. “I don’t know. Maybe six, seven times, not including this one.”

                “I know this is difficult,” Cirdan said soothingly, “but it has to be done.” Silence reigned for a moment, and Legolas nodded. “Can you tell us when he started physically, emotionally, and verbally abusing you?”

                The physical- that was hard to pin down. But the verbal? “He’s always done that.”  Legolas croaked. “Mom died a little while after I was born, and he- he blamed me.”

                He didn’t dare open his eyes, terrified to see pity again, or worse, disgust. _‘How can they not be disgusted?’_ He berated himself. “Has child protective services ever been involved?”

                He swallowed. “Only once, but he- he left me alone while they were there.”

                “Thank you. We’ve only got a few more questions, okay?”

                He nodded, grateful for the future respite. “Has your father ever suggested anything to you sexually, touched you inappropriately, or forced you to complete a sexual act?”

                Bile rose again, and this time he gagged. “No- no he’s never done that.” He felt something touch his shoulder, and twitched, pain shredding through him as he finally vomited.  A cool hand pushed his hair out of the way while another held a small pail, and soon he was laid back down.

                “You need to leave.” The nurse said in a no-nonsense tone.

                “We have to finish getting the state-“

                “I understand that, but you are making my patient ill.”

                Cirdan raised his hands, attempting to diffuse the situation. Legolas ignored them all, choosing to focus instead on the cool hand on his brow. “Ma’am, if we don’t finish this now, we may not get it to the judge in time. There are very thin windows for these things, and it needs to be done today.”

                The younger man gasped a little, and the nurse held a cup to his lips. After he swished and spat into the pail, he managed out- “I can hand a few more minutes.”

                What was a few minutes of this compared to a lifetime? This time, Freda spoke. “Good. Just two more, I promise. Did your father use a weapon on you?”

                That, he decided, should be very obvious. He remembered vividly the heavy pine cane with its’ decorative stainless steel head. “Yes. A cane- it had a metal head on it.”

                “Can you tell us what happened on the day you were attacked?” The question came out rushed, likely due to the nurse still hovering over him. Legolas didn’t care.

                “I was late coming home, but that- that didn’t matter. He wasn’t home. Left me a note to make dinner, and he- he always likes Italian food, so I made him the usual stuff.” He hadn’t been brave enough to branch out and try new things, only what he knew his father enjoyed. Like so many things in his life, his father controlled his diet completely. “He wanted- something else. Somebody at the council meeting called him an- I don’t know- Italian something. So he wanted something American. He didn’t tell me, it wasn’t my fault!”

                He knew his voice had taken on a panicked edge, but no matter how many times he reminded himself that these people were _not_ his father, a life time of training through fear was hard to beat. “Settle down, if you can.” Cirdan stated, trying to calm him. “Nobody’s blaming you, Legolas. None of it is your fault.” This, along with the old ‘falling’ excuse, was something that the old cop had heard entirely too often. It didn’t matter that they were making a change for the better, all too often an abuse would still react to any probing questions as if they were accusations.

                Freda allowed him a moment of heavy, heaving breaths, before continuing. “This is the last part, after we get this, we’ll be out of your hair for a few days. Now what happened after your father came home and decided he didn’t like dinner?”

                It felt as if fire was spreading through his lungs, and his vision was going hazy. Vaguely, he recognized a panic attack, yet another thing he was at fault for. His father was right, he couldn’t do anything on his own. What had he been thinking? He was quickly and efficiently wrapped in an extra blanket, and he felt something fix over his mouth and nose. Something cold was moving through it, and he involuntarily took a breath. His breathing began to slow, and he looked up to find an oxygen mask attached to his face. His hearing was watery, but he thought he heard the nurse saying something about ‘anxiety attack’ and ‘PTSD’. But that wasn’t possible- only soldiers got PTSD, and he’d never seen a battlefield. The shrieking noise slowly decreased down to a rapid but steady beating, and he closed his eyes again. The light hurt.

                His hearing slowly became clearer, and he heard the officers talking, but he ignored them. Breath was more important. Eventually, the pain in his body again overruled the pain in his heart, and he could listen again. He spoke through the mask , praying that they didn’t immediately take it off. “Last bit. Then-“ The nurse told him to focus on breathing, to stop talking, and he listened. He began to stop grinding his teeth,  and clenched his good hand in the extra blanket.

                “Last bit,” Freda confirmed, and she sounded worried for the first time. ‘ _What are they worried about? It’s my fault, not theirs.’_

                “He takes that- that stick” the word ‘cane’ was evading him, “to all the meetings. Has a bum leg.” He knew his words were coming out rough and stilted, but he didn’t care. ‘ _Just- just let me get this out.’_ He prayed silently. “Swung it around. Metal part- my leg.” Unconsciously, he shifted his right leg, and then winced. “Then he kept swinging, over and over. Wouldn’t stop. Left for a minute- said he’d kill me if I moved.” His breathing was coming harder again, so he ceased for a moment before continuing. “Grabbed my phone from under the table- called 911. Still on phone when he came back.” Then, then the worst part had begun, but he found himself unable to continue. “Kept hitting- everything went black- woke up here.”

                The nurse was saying something to them- he wasn’t sure what- but he felt her hand on his and held onto it as a drowning man might a lifeline. He needed something to make sense and looked to where his clothes had been as the officers left. He thought he heard Cirdan- it was definitely a man- thank him again.

                He saw her other arm move, heard her call for a technician to start the IV again, and she adjusted the bed behind him so that he was sitting up. She brushed his hair from his face. “Do you need me to stay here for a few minutes?”

                He wasn’t sure what his response was, but he did recall her sitting beside him, holding his hand, until everything went black again.


	7. The Call: Legolas IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m sorry it’s been forever and a day. However, I do have an update to Archer’s Notes! This writer’s block has been terrible, along with the holiday crap. However, since I mentioned Legolas' brothers in one of the early chapters, I decided to show them off a bit. 
> 
> Oh, I have news! The new guy has officially finished training. And I may end up having to train several other people in the next few months, but at least I have a warning this time.
> 
> As to the names, courtesy of Behind the Name: Adrian is an Italian diminutive for Hadrian, an emperor who built a wall instead of confronting enemy forces. Alessandro means defender of men- a fitting name for a soldier, even though he pretty much abandoned his brother, and Nora means honor or light.

“Speaking”

‘ _Thinking’_

_‘ Texting or written notes’_

 

When he woke up again, the pain was manageable once more, and looking up, he saw that his IV was dripping again. He tried to swallow, found it impossible, and tried to sit up. This time, he was able to do so by using his left arm instead of his right. Immediately, he reached for the plastic cup of water, and quickly drained it. The chair beside the bed now held his phone, currently on its’ charger, his sketchbook, and a few pens. The chair had also been moved close enough that if he just barely stretched, he could reach it. When he turned on the device (which took a little work, he’d never realized before how much he relied on his right hand), he was bombarded with text messages, missed calls, and voicemails.

He spent the next half-hour responding to the most recent ones, and when he finally reached the last, he froze. ‘ _Two messages: Adrian Freitas. Three messages: Alessandro Freitas. ’_

Legolas had to take a few deep breaths before selecting the first one.

‘ _Hey, I know it’s been a while. How have you been? ’ _Followed a full day after by, ‘ _Did you get a new number or something? ’_

That would be easy enough to answer, but he really didn’t want to talk to either of his brothers. Ever. They’d been happy enough to leave him, after all. Adrian had moved to Sicily, started a family, and Alessandro was in the military. When he wasn’t on call, he was home in Ohio, half a country away. It had been almost two years, on his 16th birthday, since he’d heard from Adrian, and almost twice that long since Alessandro had anything to say to him.

‘ _Sorry, I haven’t been able to answer. ’ _But what to follow that up with? What if Adrian took his father’s side?  _‘I suppose it doesn’t matter,’_  Legolas thought to himself, ‘ _He isn’t exactly going to visit.’_  ‘ _I’ve been better, how are the kids? ’_ There was no need to tell him exactly why he hadn’t been able to respond or how bad he was off right now. Next, he turned his attention to Alessandro, his oldest brother.

‘ _I saw some stuff on Facebook. Are you okay?’ _ Alessandro had never been patient, and it showed- less than ten minutes later, ‘ _Hey, other people are busy too. It’d be great if you could answer me.’ _ He winced- he knew that tone, Alessandro had learned it from Dad, and it brought up some bad memories. The next one was from shortly after Adrian’s last message yesterday. ‘ _Okay, I admit, I sounded a little pissy. If I don’t get anything from you, I’m going to call you tomorrow.’_

Legolas nervously ran a hand through his hair, finding a few nasty tangles. Of all the things he wanted to do, talk to his brothers-  _either_ of them, was on the bottom of the list. ‘ _Maybe,’_ he thought, ‘ _I can catch him before he calls.’_  With that in mind, he picked up the phone, began a new message, and was promptly interrupted by his phone ringing. He let his head fall back, grumbled in irritation, and answered the phone, putting it on the speakerphone setting. It was too difficult to hold it with his bad arm.

“Hey, sorry, my phone died.” He said, and winced at the sound of his own voice. He tried to push himself up further and bit his lip to hold in a pained hiss as one of his broken legs shifted.

“Legolas?” An incredulous voice asked. “Is that you?”

After accidentally knocking off his sketchbook, he managed to grab the handle of the large hospital water jug with the odd, wide straw, and took a deep gulp. He cleared his throat, and responded. “Yeah- I just woke up.” He waited a moment, and the silence stretched on. “Was there something you wanted to talk about, or was this your way to check if I’m still alive?”

His breath caught for just a moment, and he blinked shocked at the sarcastic tone that had just came out of him. ‘ _What the hell?’_

It seemed to shock Alessandro out of his silence as well. “So, getting a little snappish in your old age, huh?” He laughed, and it sounded fake to Legolas.

“My old a- oh. Well, since you decided I wasn’t worth talking to since I was 14, that makes a little sense. How did you even get my number?”

“Look, it’s not that you’re not- Jesus, blondie, I’m just calling to see if you’re okay. Nora was worried when she saw your friends’ posts on Facebook, and-“

“Your wife put you up to this?” He asked angrily. “You can’t even call me because you want to, you have to have your  _wife_ make you.” A burning sensation was beginning behind his eyes, and he fought back tears. “Is she there?”

“You don’t have to be so- wait, what do you mean ‘ _is she there_ ’?”

Legolas snorted. “You heard me. You left me alone with Dad, and you  _still_ don’t give a shit! She wants to know if I’m okay, I’ll talk to her.” He was never fond of bad language, but he decided to take a page out of Tauriel’s book. ‘ _Whatever happens, always surprise them. Anger gets you places.’_

There was silence again on the other end of the line, and he wondered with equal parts hope and apprehension if his brother was going to hang up on him. There were muffled voices, and the phone was picked up again. “Hi, Legolas?” A woman’s voice broke the silence, and she sounded unsure of how to pronounce his name. “Yeah, this is Nora. Sandro said you wanted to talk to me?”

‘ _Sandro? Must be a nickname.’_  “Hi. Sorry, I got a little angry at him.”

She made a humming sound, and said, “No, that’s okay. I get angry at him too.” There was a quick breath, and more quickly she added, “I’ve wanted to meet his family for years now, you’re the first one besides Adrian that I’ve talked to.”

“He talks to Adrian? Huh. I figured he was avoiding all of us.” He bit back the vicious snap- it was aimed at his brother, not at her. “You probably wouldn’t want to meet our dad anyway.”

He heard metallic clangs and water being poured. “Really? He talks about your dad all the time, says he’s a great guy.”

He was unable to stop the choked laughter. “He’s- he’s not. He was good to Alessandro, yeah, but that was only when mom was around. He-“ He swallowed again, and decided that she  _had_ wanted to know how he was anyway. “He said he was going to kill me and he almost did it a few days ago. I’m still in the hospital.”

There was a ‘bam!’ from the other end, and he was unable to stop himself from jumping. “ _What?_ No, you’ve got to be confused or something, I hear medication can-“

“Medication can’t make me think that the old man broke my legs, one of my arms, and threatened to do worse!” He felt bad for interrupting her, but he’d spent years denying what was happening. He refused to start doing it again now. He heard a knock on the door but studiously ignored it.

“I’ve- do you want to talk to your brother again?” She seemed oddly hopeful, and he let out a choked laugh.

“He knew _exactly_ what our dad is like! He left me and Arian- and then Adrian left too. I don’t want to talk to _either_ of my brothers.” At that, unsure of what to say or if there was anything left _to_ say, he hung up the phone.

A knock sounded at the door again, and he let himself sag in the hospital bed. “Come in, please!”


	8. Dad Jokes: Glorfindel, Legolas, and Tauriel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There's no real point to this one, I'm afraid. I just wanted to go ahead and get something nice out for Christmas in this 'verse before I got too swamped. Finals are this week! Wish me luck please, I'll probably need it.   
> Fair warning, AO3 kinda messed with my formatting, so I'm going to have to go back and fix it later. If you see any errors, anything you want to bring up, just general comments ect., please let me know in the comments.   
> Thanks! And Merry Christmas, if you celebrate Christmas. If you don't, happy Yule, winter equinox, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or just- happy Monday?

“Speaking”

‘ _Thinking’_

_‘ Text or written notes’_

 

Archer’s Notes

                Tauriel stood in front of the door after knocking, hoping that her closest friend and confidante was awake. She heard shouting for just a moment before it became quiet again, and knocked on the door once more. She glanced back to the upper-floor nurse’s station. A cop was chatting with a nurse, her dad was staring at a vending machine, and she seemed to be the only one out of place. She heard a raspy voice ask her to come in, and she was worried for a moment. That did  _not_ sound like Legolas. Still, she opened the door and had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

                Legolas’s hair was the only thing recognizable about him. She shut the door and went over to the bed, looking him over carefully. His right arm was in a bright yellow cast, and both his hands were bruised. The upper left arm was worse- due to the cast, she couldn’t see much of the right. Both of his eyes were swollen up and purple with yellow beginning to show on the edges, and his nose looked as if it had been painted in blue and purple. A white bandage covered the bridge of it where it had been busted. There was another bandage on one side of his lips, and most of his face was covered in yellow or reddish splotches. His neck seemed well off enough, but the upper few inches of chest, revealed by the hospital gown, was just as bruised as his face. “Hey.” He rasped, bringing her attention back to the moment at hand.

                She picked up a book from the floor and absentmindedly sat it on the rolling table. “Hi.” She said, feeling awkward. “Stupid question, but how are you feeling?”

                He coughed a little, and Tauriel was shocked to realize that he was  _laughing._  “I- I’ve been better.” He was smiling though, and she fought the urge to punch one of his shoulders as she usually did. Neither of the shoulders in question looked as if they could bear it. She pushed a charging cord from the chair and sat down.

                “Yeah, yeah, you’re all laughs.” She said sardonically, taking another moment to stare at him while he laughed at that one as well. She’d almost  _lost_ Legolas- though the terror had swept through her continuously, something had kept her from actually acknowledging the fact until now, and she choked on a sob.

                He patted her knee with her good arm. “Hey, no crying allowed.” He said with a smile. His smile faded quickly. “Sorry, I-“

                “Don’t you dare.” She snapped at him. “Don’t you apologize for what he did, what you did, what you think you could’ve done.” She inhaled sharply and interrupted him as his mouth began to open again. “I almost lost you.” She said simply. “You have two brothers- yeah, they’re assholes, you can live without them. But I only have one. And I almost  _lost you_.”

                She sniffed loudly, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes or the cool, damp streaks down her face that told her she was crying. The blonde looked around, finally sighting the box of tissues. “I wasn’t going to apologize for any of that.” He said, and grunted as his arm fell just short of the small rolling table. Tauriel moved before he could even ask, handing him the box while pulling her legs up on the rather uncomfortable chair.

                He smiled again and offered a tissue. “Thanks, birdie.” She blew her nose loudly in his direction, and he snickered. Ever since she’d first ‘perched’ in his vicinity, he’d been unable to resist calling her such things as: birdie, little bird, angry chicken, and grumpy songbird.

                “I was going to say sorry for not texting back earlier. Got a call from Alessandro.”

                She swallowed and wrapped her arms about her knees, resting her head on the top of them. “Sorry.” She mumbled, and then, “Wait, the oldest of the three little assholes? What did he want?”

                He took another sip of water before answering. “His wife wanted to make sure I was okay. Nora seems nice.”

                She huffed. “Well, she’d have to have the patience of a saint to deal with him.”

                He ‘hmm’d’ softly. “Yeah, definitely.”

                “You okay?” She asked. He’d leaned back again, and his eyes were closing.

                “Yeah- meds make me sleepy.” As if to verify, he yawned widely, and blinked a few times before focusing on her. “How’ve you been?”

                “Okay.” She shrugged. There was no need to tell him of the massive argument she’d gotten into with her mother a few hours ago. And what side her dad had leaned on. “So- might want to get that Morphine going a little faster.”

                His brow furrowed and he frowned. “Huh?”

                Tauriel worried her lip and pointedly looked out the window. “You know how you’re non-religious and stuff?”

                She heard him shift. “Yes, I know that I am agnostic. What happened?”

                “Well,” she began, drawing out the l’s, “Mom may have decided that she and a few of her religious friends are going to come pray over you. In tongues.”

                “Nope.” He said firmly, shaking his head. “Your mom can come and say a prayer  _in English_  over me all she wants, but no tongues and no crowds.”

                “Not even for a few minutes?”

                Legolas stared at his friend and sighed. “Fine. Five minutes- she prays, they all leave. Deal?”

                She shrugged. “You know Mom, she’ll do what she wants. And Dad just says to let her.”

                Another knock sounded at the door, and a rather tall man entered. He’d never felt quite comfortable with Tauriel’s father- it had gotten better since he decided that  _maybe_ they weren’t dating after all, but he was still big and intimidating. “Hey, kiddo!” He greeted cheerfully, and Tauriel rolled her eyes.

                “Dad, do you have to be a walking Dad joke?” She groaned.

                “No, I can be a leaning one too. See?” He proceeded to lean against the wall, and Tauriel threw one of his pens at the older man while trying not to laugh.

                “Dad!”

                Legolas couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. He’d stopped trying to get her to cease throwing things at her dad  _years_ ago- it had taken him a little longer to figure out how different Glorfindel was from his own father. “So I have to let your wife pray over me, sir?”

                Glorfindel nodded. “Yep. Only way I could agree to let this one-“ He gestured towards his daughter, “ _alone_ in a hospital room with a boy. Told her that you weren’t exactly going to be in shape for it, but hey, women are women.”

                Tauriel rolled her eyes and started looking for another pen. “Dad, don’t insinuate that we’re together, seriously.”

                “Aww, but you’d make such a cute couple! You know, I am getting older- grandkids are a priority once you’re out of college.” He teased and grinned as his daughter flushed to the roots of her hair. Hopefully, the kid blushed too- it just wouldn’t do to only embarrass  _one_ minor a day.

                “DAD!” ‘ _Ah, sweet success.’_

                Seeking to both get himself out of what he saw as the firing line (he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mr. Columbine owned a shotgun) and to stop Tauriel’s yelling, he asked, “So, I have to let your wife pray over me today, sir?”

                His mouth twisted in a frown, and Legolas immediately regretted it. “ _Ex-_ wife. And yes.” Glorfindel tried to clear the bad taste out of his mouth, and continued, “You may have to let her pray over you, but nobody said that you couldn’t start screaming ‘hail Satan’ in the middle of it.”

                “Oh Legolas,  _don’t_ , she’ll probably hire an exorcist.” Tauriel responded, shooting her dad another glare. Once again, she had to fight the urge to hit the younger blonde as he snickered.

                “But that would be the best way to get her to stop trying to convert me, yeah?” He asked.

                “Nope- she’d probably just say you were going to hell and pray more.”

                He groaned as Tauriel smirked, and Glorfindel thought it his fatherly duty to interrupt. “But back to the important stuff- grandkids?”

                “Dad!”


	9. Mothers and Daughters; Fathers and Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m back in the library at college, and I’m writing again! I’m sorry that I can’t give you some 10 page monstrosity as payback, like with Courting Mishaps, but this was never a huge arc, like Courting Mishaps- more like a series of small, interconnected arcs. I will be updating regularly (monthly instead of bi-monthly) as I get the chance, again! My next few pieces in this verse will be set before and during Archer’s Notes, so if you’re looking for updates to this, please just go to LearnToShareFeanor, Series, and then Drunk Texts. They’ll be in relative order. 
> 
> The lies Elrohir tells, as referenced in chapter 2 of Drunk Texts 2, finally come to light.  
> I am not going to cover Carolyn’s prescription medication use or religious beliefs in this one, and I’m probably not going to get to much into explaining either her beliefs or Legolas’ beliefs. Agnostic is pretty straightforward, and just Google Pentecostal beliefs. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: Referenced child abuse (Legolas), reference past attempted child molestation (Tauriel)- don’t worry, Glorfindel gets to her in time and beats the s*&t out of him, referenced alcoholism (Erestor), referenced infidelity (Elrohir), referenced religiously-based anti-feminism (Carolyn), referenced divorce (Carolyn and Glorfindel), and referenced weapon use (Tauriel and Glorfindel).  
> The weapon use isn’t bad; Glorfindel tries to teach his daughter to use a small gun to protect herself, which is very common where I’m from and considered normal, then a crossbow, and then archery. Seriously though, people don’t usually ask you if you know how to shoot, because it’s generally assumed that everybody does. Welcome to Texas! 
> 
> If you see anything that would trigger you, but that I don't have listed as a trigger as I don't see it as one, please let me know so that I can add it to the tags. As always, please read and review! I also have a new Tumblr, LearnToShareFeanor.
> 
> 1/26/16 Edit: There were a ton of small grammatical issues that were fixed. I also fixed the spacing a bit, because it didn't show on the site correctly. It should improve readability.

                 It was almost half an hour later when Carolyn and her cult- ah _friends_ , Legolas corrects himself, leaves. He found that she was too busy glaring down Glorfindel and asking him and her daughter to pray with them (both refused), to do too much in the prayer way. He’d noticed Glorfindel staring down at his phone a few times, but he was a bit too polite to interrupt Carolyn and her cronies to ask him what he was doing. Legolas had no doubt that it was more interesting than what was happening in the room. On the plus side, they’d left earlier than they’d planned when Carolyn refused to acknowledge the whole ‘divorced’ thing, and refused to call Glorfindel anything but her husband. When Carolyn asked him what he was doing, he’d cheerfully proclaimed that he was texting his boyfriend, and that Carolyn really needed to get herself one; but not Erestor, because Erestor was his.

                He didn’t know who this _Erestor_ was, but he had to fight off laughter; he supposed it was the morphine acting up, but he found the two of them hurling barbs at one another while Carolyn’s cronies _‘that’s a good name for a band!’_ he thinks, and then has a moment of confusion. ‘ _What was I thinking?’_ Oh, yes. While Carolyn’s Cronies (Trademark Legolas) flocked around their leader. They sounded like so many geese, and after a while, he’d given up any pretense of listening. He and Tauriel gossiped for a while- mainly about how the guys were doing, whether she thought they’d get to the State championships, what the Twins were doing. The Twins- sometimes even their father, Elrond, had trouble telling them apart- had a category of their own. Apparently, Elrond had noticed some cash being slipped out of the Twins’ bank allowance- their father put in 100 each for them to share. The thing was, he’d noticed because Elladan went to him, asking why they didn’t have any spending cash for that month. Elrond had called Elrohir, and when he found out that he was at a garage paying the last part of a bill from some guys’ motorcycle, he’d flipped. Anyway, the story had come out.

                Elrohir borrowed Erestor’s bike, with the condition that, if anything happened, he’d pay for it. He’d crashed it, and because Erestor wasn’t the driver, Erestor’s insurance wouldn’t pay for it. Of course, he had to explain _what_ exactly he was doing out west, why he couldn’t just borrow the minivan (both boys were on the insurance), and then, why he was cheating on his girlfriend. Unfortunately, said girlfriend, who often just popped in and out of the house as she lived down the street, chose that moment to pop in, and found out her boyfriend of 2 years was cheating on her. Apparently, according to Tauriel, nobody had an issue telling the Twins apart, as Elrohir had a massive bruise where his girlfriend had hit him. His girlfriend was one of the cheerleaders, so news of the breakup and _why_ they’d broken up, was all over campus in minutes. The Twins had had a very public fight- they were thick as thieves, but suddenly Elrohir had an entire _life_ that Elladan hadn’t known about. Elladan, with money from his dad, put bright purple streaks in his hair, and professed that he intended to keep them so that no one would be able to mix him up with Elrohir anymore. Neither Arwen nor Elladan were speaking with their brother, and Elrond, apparently, was very publicly disappointed in his son.

                Erestor, now, was in the mix- Elrond wanted to know why Elrohir was borrowing a grown man’s bike, and how this man knew his son, a _minor._ Elladan clued him in, but Tauriel said she still wasn’t sure what to tell her dad. Erestor, apparently, was an abuse victim, just like him- only about 10 times worse. Elladan and Elrohir would buy liquor, or get people to buy liquor for them, and give it to their ‘friend’. He said that Erestor had a decent house and hosted the best parties, until he’d decided, apparently, to quit drinking. Elrohir hadn’t been happy about that, and much to his shame, Elladan hadn’t been pleased either. One day, when Erestor’s younger brother was shopping, Elladan had slipped him a bottle of Gin. It had the desired effect of having Erestor slip back into drinking. Unfortunately, it also had the effect of Lindir skipping town.

                “We aren’t going to State.” Tauriel says, with a wry smile. “Elrond pulled both the Twins from the team. I still don’t know how to tell Dad that he used to be an alcoholic, though.”

                Legolas nods. They’ve got two options- either surrender the title to one of the many other teams, or get 2- 3, he thinks with a despondent frown, looking at his arm- more people. Kili was supposed to be their extra, so that brings it down to 1 or 2 more people. She’s not happy that he’s focused on championships more than his own recovery, at least until he explains that if he doesn’t have something positive to distract him, he won’t _ever_ really recover. One of the psychologists employed with the hospital had told him that, and something of it rang true to him.

                He tells her what Dr. Elros (who is, indeed, Mr. Elrond’s brother) told him earlier in the day. “Apparently, I’m recovering faster than expected. They think I’ll make a full recovery, and they’ll be moving me from the ICU to a regular room, and getting me started with physical therapy soon.” This is said with a frown, not the happy smile that she feels would be more appropriate.

                “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” She asks, and he shakes his head. It no longer makes him want to vomit.

                “No. Apparently my dad’s insurance will pay for the therapy, and a room for another week. Then I have to go home.”

                She’s confused for a moment, but he knows the very second she catches on. Her face goes from confused to lax to horrified in an eye-blink. “But your dad posted bail! He’s at your house!”

                It’s then that Legolas allows himself to break, if just a little. He forces back tears, and is swiftly interrupted by Glorfindel and Carolyn’s fight. It’s now that Carolyn brings up what she was _really_ here for; women should wear skirts, she thinks. Men can practice sports, but women should not, she believes. Therefore, she’s demanding that Tauriel quit the team. And she calls Legolas an invalid, something that hurts him, badly. Geese should know better than to challenge bears, for Glorfindel’s 6 and a half feet of muscle and bone, and in this moment, he’s more frightening than Legolas has ever seen him. Apparently, Glorfindel and Carolyn are _still_ arguing about custody, and unbeknownst to the two teenagers, her father had finally won. Allowing Carolyn her moment had not been a kindness, then, but rather a way to rub her face into the family that _he_ had.

                Carolyn says that Legolas should, as if he isn’t in the room, go home. She says the business of father and son are no business of anyone else, and bile rises in his throat. Suddenly, Glorfindel, huge and golden and angry, is chest to chest with her and snarling. Before he knows it, he’s got a home to go to once he gets out of the hospital. He doesn’t dare refuse; Glorfindel is scary, but he does what he does out of love for his daughter, and there’s some part of him (a small part, but it’s growing) that knows- Glorfindel won’t hurt him. He’s a big bear, yes, but a Grizzly would much rather have nuts and berries and fresh fish than a person. It strikes Legolas that this is the difference between Glorfindel and his own father.

                To his father, Legolas is the fish- something to be _owned_ and consumed. To Glorfindel, he’s just a person. Maybe he isn’t quite right, but he isn’t quite shattered, not yet. There’s still that bit of person in him- that part that refused to swim with or against the current, but instead want’s to climb out of the water.

 

                Almost half an hour after she comes in, Glorfindel has forced Carolyn out. She isn’t a _bad_ person, he defends, she just has beliefs that are different. Tauriel starts in on him, and he raises a hand. He says she has to learn to deal with people with other beliefs, and that this is why she had a decent home life for so long. Tauriel has to go with Carolyn, then, and she leaves the room. In the deafening silence of the room, he can hear Carolyn, outside, telling Tauriel that she’d already packed up her things, and she was borrowing Glorfindel’s truck to transport them. Tauriel’s upset- not that she’s moving in with her dad, she’s always wanted to do that- but that she didn’t have a choice in the matter. In Legolas’ small, white and faded yellow room, Glorfindel looks his age for once. The ever-present boyish smile is missing from his face, and his shoulders, broad like a linebacker’s, are slumped. He nearly falls into his chair, and then takes a moment to observe Legolas.

                Blue eyes meet blue, one set terrified and the other set tired. It’s Glorfindel who speaks first, as the voices of the women (and, much as Glorfindel hates to admit it, his little girl with mud-stained knees and bright freckles is now a woman) fade. “You know,” he says, “That was- heat of the moment. It was true, though. You can stay with us.”

                Legolas manages a rough thank you, and Glorfindel nods and continues. “Good.” He says firmly, and begins to outline things. He’s going to be repainting Tauriel’s room, if she wants it- it still has the special-ordered wallpaper that looks almost exactly like a pine forest, complete with a green and brown rug with leaf patterns, and a blue ceiling that he painted himself after the divorce, in the hopes that one day, he would have full year-long custody of his daughter. And the old twin bed has already been upgraded to a Queen size, they’ll need to go sheet shopping, and curtain shopping- her curtains are still bright pink from the Barbie phase ( _don’t tell her I told you about the Barbies, please. She’ll kill me_ , he says). They’ll need to go mattress and sheet and paint shopping for him as well, and it’s at this point Legolas realizes that the older man is _serious_. This isn’t one of the many jokes that Adrian and Alessandro had played on him- promising him an escape and then leaving him. This is real.

                Glorfindel says that they have no way of getting Legolas’ clothes and things from Thranduil’s house, at least not until the police to their work, but that they’ll go shopping once he’s out of the hospital for a few days. He tells the boy that he has clothes that the other team members have left that might fit him, and that he’s kept some of his own father’s old clothing. He tells him that the old bastard was about his size, and that they’re out of date fashion-wise, but that he’ll no doubt fit them better than Mr. Columbine, Sr. did.

 

                Legolas wonders, briefly, about why Glorfindel refers to his father as an ‘old bastard’, but he knows from the way Tauriel talks that he wasn’t a good man. He knows that one day, in her Grandfather’s house (which has long since been sold) that Tauriel woke up, dizzy on cough syrup, and she says she doesn’t remember much of what happened, but all of the sudden she was wrapped in her mother’s arms, and she watched her father beat the living daylights out of the man, putting him in the hospital. Not that it mattered; Tauriel says her Grandfather was already diagnosed with cancer and refusing treatment, and he died of Pancreatic cancer a few months later anyway.

                The young blonde has told her before, that he thinks what she went through was much more frightening. Every instance of abuse can flash before his eyes easily, but she doesn’t remember. She told him that her parents had, against Carolyn’s wishes, taken her to a hospital to get a rape test, and found that her Grandfather hadn’t went that far- at least, not yet. She calls him the ‘old bastard’ too, and one night, when she’s drank just a little too much of the Twins illicit alcohol, she tells Legolas that it’s part of why her parents broke up. Carolyn believed that everything happens for a reason and women are less than men, anyway. Glorfindel, in the meantime, started taking his daughter on his early morning jogs, and it was her dad who taught her so many important things. He taught her how to judge if she’d be better off fighting or running away (and gave her the confidence in that she _could_ run fast enough, if she needed to), and he taught her how to throw a decent right punch followed by a vicious left hook. She told him that, in self defense classes, one of the first thing they learned is to go for the groin. She says her dad told her never to do that; that women have been going there for men since women have been able to kick, and they’ll expect it.

                It’s Glorfindel’s masseuse, who works at the spa, who teachers her about pressure points and what they do. Ana is a good teacher; she surprises her dad one day by pinching a part of his lower armpit and dropping him like a sack of bricks, and Glorfindel reinforces that it’s _good_ that she knows how to do it and is getting practical experience. He takes her to a shooting range one weekend, but much to her embarrassment, she keeps on jumping at the kick of the gun and nearly dropping it. One of his friends suggests the crossbow as a joke, but Tauriel quickly falls in love. She quickly learns the weapon with its semi-automatic reload for ease of a small girl, and she starts winning small things. It’s little prizes from the fair, one day she wins her dad a giant purple dinosaur that still, to this very day, graces the space between washing machine and dryer, because Tauriel had been sure, at ten years old, that the dinosaur was the only thing that could keep the monsters away from the basement.

                It was another one of the guys at the Spa that teaches her self-defense; Henry Wu says that he’s no expert, but he taught her how to center herself, Tai Chi, and then how to use a smaller, lighter frame as a weapon against a larger enemy. By that time, her parents have divorced, and she finds Henry’s lessons useful; centering herself is her way of keeping herself sane.

 

                At 11 years old, one Christmas, Tauriel opens her gifts. They’re at her Dad’s house this year, and Carolyn got her a copy of the Protestant Bible and a skirt. She doesn’t like her Mom’s gifts; the self-reliance, self-esteem, and self-worth that her Dad has been building on her doesn’t agree with her Mom’s teachings. She gets a Playstation from Uncle Feanor, and games for it from Aunt Nerdanel and their 7 sons. They barely speak, and so the gift is unexpected. She gets things from friends and other members of her family, but when she tears open the wrapping paper from her Dad’s gift, she sees something she’s _really_ excited about. Laketown Outdoor Supplies- they visit sometimes, when she’s with her Dad on weekends, and they’re right by the lake that her Dad takes her to fish when he gets the chance and it’s the right season. As she predicted, she gets a shiny new fishing rod and reel- she’s outgrown her tiny one- complete with an empty tackle box, extra line, and a hook. She’s squealing like the child she is, and her Dad is laughing at her Mom’s scowl and telling her to look a little deeper.

                It’s there. The one thing she’s asked for for two birthdays and three Christmases. She saw it in the window of the Laketown store, and she handles it with the reverence that Carolyn _wishes_ her daughter had for things like sewing and cooking. Tauriel’s nearly crying, and her Dad shows her, through her tears, how to string it, and just like that, she has something that no other girl in her town does. She has a weapon that she’s comfortable with- a sniper’s weapon- and she knows how to use it. That first burn of confidence and _rightness_ never fades, even when she uses the school’s bow and not the one her Dad got her so many years ago. At 11 years old, she turns from Tauriel, the Little Girl, to Tauriel, the Archer. At 13 years old, she meets her closest friend, Legolas, and at 15, just 2 years ago, they start the archery team.

 

                Glorfindel doesn’t know for sure if his daughter still remembers those tears when he first gave her that weapon. He doesn’t know if she still practices Tai Chi every day before school. But he does know this; he is a caring person, and he needs people to care for almost as much as he needs the air he breathes. So he’s there at every archery competition, and he takes her hunting or fishing on holidays and when he can. And he promises himself he’ll take care of this little boy, because something in him reminds him of his little red haired girl, terrified of her own Grandfather, and it puts him in a protective rage. So, when Legolas is better, he’ll see if the boy likes to fish. They’ll start there, and see if Ana won’t mind a new student, and if Henry is willing to teach a new person Tai Chi and self-defense. Legolas may be confused about what this is now, but Glorfindel isn’t. He had one child, and now he has two; he’ll care for them both as best he can.

 

                It’s almost an hour after Carolyn left, and Legolas says he likes the stars; Glorfindel will talk to the guy who did the wallpaper for Tauriel’s room and see what they can do about getting a huge, high-quality print of the Horsehead Nebula, and Glorfindel already has plans for the walls; purples and blues and blacks. Legolas will pick out his rug when they go shopping in a few weeks; it would be quite the shame if his son weren’t comfortable in his new home.  

 


	10. Courting Mishaps (Redux) VIII, The Sequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, Courting Mishaps is finally finished! Yay! And boo, because I had to write the ending for it, and everybody knows what happens with Glorfindel in Gondolin. :-(
> 
> But hey, I have a new chapter for you guys, too! All in the same day, aren't you so happy? AREN'T YOU?!?! JK, sorry, a little hyper. The Lone Star 1500 is a real truck, it is limited edition, and it is only available in Texas. Thank you to one of my reviewers, a Cassidy_And_The_Company for reminding me that I keep on leaving out the drama between Tauriel and Kili. I hope you like this chapter! 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think. Reviews help me make things more enjoyable for you. I know, it sounds like some weird sales schpeal, but it's true.
> 
> Edit: I accidentally called Kili a she. Fixed it!

                Kili is frustrated. There’s no other way to put it, not really. The team is effectively disbanded, the jocks of the school are at war with one another, and Tauriel is ignoring him. The team part he can’t really help; unless he can magically fix Legolas and somehow get another decent archer, of course. And the jock thing- oh, it’s just what Fili would call a cluster-fuck. The school dance is coming up, and Faramir got up the balls to ask out Eowyn. Eowyn, to everyone’s surprise, agreed. That really should have been the end of it, but her brother, Eomer, is an ass. He says he doesn’t want a _freak_ going out with his sister, and Boromir got into a fight with him behind the school. So the entire football team has taken sides- one part is with Eomer, their best linebacker, and the other with Boromir, the team captain and quarterback. And then all of the other sports come into play. Both the male and female soccer teams now hate the footballers who are on Eomer’s side, the cheerleaders are split into two groups- one who hates Faramir on principle because he worked with the twins, one who doesn’t- and somebody (Kili strongly suspects the equestrian club) dumped 80 pounds of horse manure in and near Eomer’s locker.

                So yeah, school sucks. Kili may be in the better school, but he sort of envies his brother, who’s still in the inner city school district of Erebor. All of their friends are there, and there isn’t a clique war going on. According to Fili, even the gangs are being quiet.

                Oh, and the Tauriel thing. He doesn’t even want to _talk_ about the Tauriel thing. He asked her to the school dance via text (and Fili has told him 10 different ways that he’s a coward for it), and visited Legolas in the hospital after he gets a chance to get out of his conversation with Bard- apparently, they’re going on a hunting trip this weekend. He takes a few deep breaths to try and sort out his thoughts. Okay. So, Bard invited him (and the rest of the team, minus the twins) out to his lake house this weekend for a hunting/fishing trip. It sounds fun, and Bard told him he can even bring his brother. That part started out well. So, he texted Tauriel:

**_ Hey, will you go out with me? _ **

**_ To the dance?  _ **

**_ Probably should have been more specific, lol. :-) _ **

                And he did the smiley face. _How_ many times had Kili told him _never_ to do the smiley face with a girl, especially a hot one? If she’d agreed, he’d never have lived it down. He still might not. So, he went to the hospital after school, and found that Tauriel was already there. In bed. With Legolas. Full on cuddle and everything. It was then that Kili realized that _he’d asked Legolas’ girlfriend to the dance._

                Fuck.

                Legolas seemed happy to see him, and Tauriel was perfectly nice (apparently, she was only a bitch on the first few days, to weed out the ones who aren’t actually serious about archery), and it was all pretty normal. Until Tauriel turned her phone on- apparently, she’d forgotten to do it. Which  brought him to The Argument.

                He figured that since Legolas and Tauriel were dating, he’d lose any hope of friendship with either of them if he asked Tauriel to the dance. So, he may have kind of done exactly what Faramir told him _not_ to do and possibly hurt her feelings. But to be fair, if Faramir had told him that they were going out, he never would have in the first place. So he laughed it off, saying that he accidentally texted her, meaning it for someone else. Tauriel seemed oddly hurt by that, but it was _two days ago_. What the hell was wrong with her?

                He talked to Fili, who always had better luck with women than anyone he knew, and Fili seemed confused too. Until he brought up this idea: that they were just friends and Tauriel actually kinda liked him. And that led him to Faramir. Faramir knew everything about everyone, and if anyone knew if they were actually going out (which is a question, in retrospect, he probably should have asked), it would be Faramir.

                Faramir looked at him like he was some sort of idiot, told him that Legolas was basically her adopted brother, and Kili felt like 20 kinds of idiot and asshole. And that led him here. She could ignore him easily enough at school, and she could completely disregard her phone, but it wouldn’t be so easy while he was at her house.

                At least, that’s what he’d thought. Now, though, as he looked up at the large two-story brick and limestone house with a brand new blue Ram 1500 Lone Star (they were special edition, and worth more money than his entire _house_ ), a bright red Kia Soul (which also looked brand new) parked in front under a large awning (twice the size of his room- his whole house would be swallowed by Tauriel’s), and a very familiar beat-up 1999 Dodge Stratus, he felt intimidated. He’d been to houses like these plenty of times before; they would go with Gimli and Dwalin to paint rooms or Bofur to do their lawn. But never as a guest. It felt strange to walk up the driveway (three times as long as his, he mentally estimated) without pushing a lawnmower or towing buckets of paint. His mom sometimes came to these places too- in fact, she came to at least two a day. She worked as a maid and babysitter. Damn rich people couldn’t even be bothered to wash their own dishes sometimes.

                He knocked on the door and halfway expected a butler to come and greet him. His expectation was proved correct when none other than his mother opened the door. “Kili? Is something wrong at the house?”

                Oh, great. “Uh- no, mom, everything’s fine. I, um, was-“ He shuffled his feet, trying in vain to escape her bright searching eyes. “Uh, is Tauriel there?”

                His mother snorted and promptly smacked him on the side of his head. “She’s here, but I’m fairly sure you should be at home. Doing your _homework_.”

                He opened his mouth to reply, but a flash of yellow caught his eye. “Oh, hey, Kili! What’s up?” Legolas. Of course- well, he had to apologize to him too, anyway.

                “I was just going to see if I could talk to Tauriel for a second. Hey, wait, what are you doing out of the hospital?” He asked in confusion. His mother sent him a _look_ but stepped out of the way, going into a side hallway. There were, he observed, a lot of hallways.

                Legolas smiled, leaning on one of his crutches and suggested that they sit down. He followed the boy to what he guessed was the living room and sat on the edge of one of the couches. Kili had a moment of wondering how _anyone_ could hate the blonde in front of him- he was ridiculously nice. His thoughts were disturbed by Legolas’ voice. “I’m only out of the hospital for an hour or two to get some more clothes and to pick up homework. It’s either do it or get held back for a year.” Legolas rolled his eyes, and Kili nodded sympathetically.

                “We’re in the same biology class, so let me know if you need the notes. And Faramir told me to tell you whenever I saw you that he doesn’t mind giving you a few pointers in physics.”

                “Thanks- especially for Faramir. I swear, he should be in Mensa or something. Guy’s a genius.” Faramir was only a sophomore, but he was in senior AP physics and chemistry, junior AP science and trig, and regular everything else. Kili was fairly sure that he was the only person Mr. Satan actually _liked_. Legolas took out his phone for a second and typed out a message. “She’ll be down in a minute, I probably need to get back.”

                “Yeah, sure.” He said lightly- he’d honestly hoped Legolas could stay for the very uncomfortable conversation that was about to happen, but a much taller man had entered the room now.

                “Ready to go?” The new guy asked. Kili was pretty sure he was around 7 feet tall. And from the pictures on the twins’ phones, Tauriel’s dad.

                Legolas nodded at him and tried to stand up. Kili slid underneath the bad arm at the first sign of a wince, supporting the other boy’s weight. “Thanks.” The blonde gritted out, eyes clenched in pain.

                “Yep, time to get some Morphine.” Tauriel’s dad said cheerfully, coming behind them to get Legolas’ other side. They helped him out to the very expensive limited edition truck and got him settled in the passenger seat (Kili had to use the step, and wondered if they’d ever include a ladder), and the big guy introduced himself as Glorfindel.

                He shot them both a little wave as they pulled out of the nice, shiny driveway with its’ gravel that Bofur might have laid down, and turned back to the house. Tauriel was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, giving him a sour look. He grinned at her and let out a cheerful greeting. His greeting fell as she showed very little reaction. “Uh, okay, so can we talk?”

                Tauriel frowned at him and shut the door, gesturing for him to follow her. He did, and they ended up on a little two-seat bench overlooking a garden. Okay, Bofur had _definitely_ laid that one down- one of the fountains had his personal signature on the bottom. “What do you want to talk about?” She asked blandly, and he tried not to sigh.

                “You know, the dance is in about a week.” He began, hoping she’d get his meaning, or at least show him a little mercy.

                “Yeah. What’s wrong? Your date cancel? Or did she say yes- and mean it for someone else?” Okay, he deserved that.

                “I, uh- I don’t actually have a date. And I’m sorry about that, I really did mean to ask you out, I just-“ He shrugged at her scowl and continued. “I thought you were going with Legolas.”

                That, at least, seemed to catch her off guard. “ _What?_ Why would I be going with Legolas?”

                He stuttered out a few responses, every one sounding more and more lame, before she started laughing. _‘Great,’_ he thought, ‘ _she’s laughing at my misery.’_ “ _God,_ Kili, I would _never!_ He’s like my _brother_!”

                “Well, I didn’t know that!” He defended.

                “And you couldn’t just ask?” She asked, still snickering at him.

                He shrugged, looking at his shoes, and she huffed. They sat like that for a few minutes before she stood up. “Meet me at the school at 6- you’d better be on time- and wear something green. And please, if you have any respect for me, do _not,_ I repeat do _not_ wear a bow tie.”

                She was gone before he got his head together enough to say something, and by then he was laughing too, even as he walked down the not-so-scary gravel driveway. So, maybe this week wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. The team is still broken, but maybe he can do something about that after all, and Faramir is having a rough time, but at least his brother is actually standing up for him. And the best part, he’s decided, is probably Tauriel.


	11. Am I under arrest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another day, another update. So, Cirdan totally ships Bilbo/Thorin. As a matter of fact, so do I. Any scheming nephews bear no resemblance to Fili, Kili, or Frodo- promise! *crosses fingers*
> 
> Legolas gets a turn for the better- and has to start picking out lawyers.

                Only an hour after they’d left the hospital, Legolas found himself back in his hospital bed. He should be out of his room and back home, with only visits for physical therapy, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t be. And he was very, very nervous.

                How long after Glorfindel’s generosity would he be expected to get back on his feet, no pun intended, and either go back to his father’s house or find his own? How long until he had to go back to school and face the stares? He was already going to be held back- Mr. Ol…Gandalf, Mrs. Galadriel, and Mr. Elrond had all been nice enough to send him his homework, and Faramir had been up here nearly every day to help him with his science, but due to the school district’s rules, he’d still missed too many days. He’d be graduating at nineteen instead of eighteen. What would prospective colleges think of that? And what about his father?

                He’d been avoiding thinking about that, since it had been a few weeks since he’d last seen Officer Cirdan, but he couldn’t avoid it any longer. And then, there was a knock at the door. “It’s open!” He called. It was amazing how a few weeks in a hospital could make him so comfortable with the lack of any privacy.

                ‘ _Speak of the devil…’_ he thought, and immediately rescinded it. The devil? Hopefully not. Cirdan himself, this time with someone else behind him, walked into the room, semi-friendly smile still on his face. “Afternoon, Mr. Freitas. You remember Officer Freda, yes?” He asked, gesturing to the younger cop.

                “Yes sir.” He replied, wondering why they were here. Something to do with his dad, certainly, but-

                “Good. We’ve got some very good news.” Freda said cheerfully, sitting down in a chair after breezing past her partner. Cirdan rolled his eyes good-naturedly and mumbled something about ‘young people’ before sitting down himself.

                Freda handed him what looked like a plain Manilla folder labeled with ‘ **ERED LUIN COUNTY COURT FEDERAL LAW CASE #8973265411 FREITAS V. FREITAS**’. He looked down at it uncertainly before flipping it open. Cirdan spoke this time. “We managed to get it pushed to the federal court system- two counts of abuse of a minor, one count of aggravated assault, one of attempted manslaughter.”

                He froze. “I thought you said we had to wait until I was 18 for that?” He asked, and then cursed himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth.

                Cirdan flipped through a few pages of the heavy court docket. “New law- the Amrod rule. Remember that psycho one the news that killed his kid?” He asked, and Legolas shuddered, nodding.

                “Well, they got a law passed- basically, if it’s any type of attempted murder, including manslaughter, all parties are to be tried as adults. So we don’t have to wait the-“ he flipped back to the front page, “-two weeks and four days until you’re 18.”

                Legolas leaned back, shocked. “I-“ He shook his head, flipping through some pages again. “So what does all this mean?”

                Freda took pity on him, and began to explain. “It means that you’ll be put in the foster care system, or with a friend if you know somebody, until you’re 18, and the trial will start in about a month. We’ll need to take you in next Tuesday, and you’re going to be spending a lot of time at the courthouse giving interviews. Your lawyer might want to get you to be a witness, but we’ll leave that up to them.”

                He swallowed, wide eyed. “I don’t have a lawyer- only my dad does, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Smaug is going to be on his side.”

                Cirdan made a hmming noise. “Well, you’ll be provided one. I’d recommend Baggins Family Law- they’re pretty good. And Mr. Bilbo Baggins could talk his way, blindfolded and handcuffed, out of a space station, I’m pretty sure.”

                Legolas couldn’t help the snort. “Yes, _someone_ is a little obsessed with the Baggins family. And the Durins, and how to get them together.”

                “I am not!” Cirdan objected, and Freda gave him a flat look.

                “Look, just because I bribed their nephews to make them go to dinner together- which succeeded, I’ll have you know- doesn’t mean I’m playing matchmaker.” She looked at him again. “I’m not!”

                After getting him to sign and initial an unholy number of papers, they left, promising to give him a call once they got any updates. He stared at the business card before him, debating if he should call or not. ‘ ** _Bilbo Baggins, Esq. 37 BagEnd, Bagshot Row, Office: (888) 329-6541, Fax: (888) 329-6540, Cell: (412) 832-1937._**


	12. Glorfindel and the Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you like this one! Please let me know what you think. And by the way, what Legolas is suffering from is very common for long-term abuse victims. It's a variation of Stockholm syndrome.

                The next morning, after dropping Tauriel off at school due to yet another rainy day, Glorfindel drove up to the hospital. Tauriel had mentioned something about Legolas needing to see him, and he’d forgotten to give the kid his number. He gave his usual cursory knock at the door before entering, and interrupted the boy’s reading. _‘ Ranger’s Apprentice: Ruins of Gorlan’. _“Good book?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

                Legolas jumped a little, and he immediately felt bad. “It’s not bad. Halbarad visited and brought me up the entire series. Aragorn brought me a bunch of comic books.” He gestured towards some flowers. “And those are from Arwen and the Twins. Mostly Arwen, probably.”

                Glorfindel nodded. “Yeah, she’s a sweet kid. So, I forgot to give you my number! What’s yours? I’ll text it to you.”

                He did so, and then, “So what did you need to talk to me about?” Glorfindel made himself comfortable- or as comfortable as he could, rather- on the chair nearest to his bed.

                Legolas put his book down after marking the page and reached over to grab a small yellow and green card from the bedside tray. “The cops came back yesterday. They were able to go to trial.”

                “That’s good!” Seeing Legolas’ expression, he clarified, “You do want him in jail, don’t you?”

                “Yeah, yeah.” He answered, but it seemed oddly forced. “But anyway, they gave me a card for a lawyer- I don’t know how this is going to work, though.”

                Glorfindel was confused for a second after taking the card before he put two and two together. “They’re required to give you a lawyer, Legolas. You don’t have to pay for one- besides, now that my divorce and custody lawyer is out of a job, I can fork out some cash for this.” Heck, with the amount of money he made, his child support fund could go to the laywer, and unless he was expensive, probably pay him off.

                He shrugged. “I don’t want to-“ He stopped there, gnawing on his lip.

                “Don’t want to what?” He asked softly, musing that he’d _never_ had this problem with Tauriel. If anything, sometimes she was a little bit too forward and demanded instead of asked.

                The boy shrugged again, and seemed to shrink into himself just a little. “You know what? I’ll be right back- hold on to whatever thought you have.” He held up a finger and left the room in a hurry, to Legolas’ obvious confusion.

                ‘ _This isn’t going to be awkward at all._ ’ He attempted to persuade himself. He wasn’t very successful as he pulled his phone back out of his pocket and shot some texts out to friends, coworkers, basically asking what they knew about abused kids. If he knew one thing, it was that the way he’d always conversed with his own daughter was _not_ going to work for him.

                The answers, though they took several minutes to come through, were variations on one or two themes: “I don’t know, I’m not a psychiatrist.” and “No clue. Sorry.”

                There was one, however, that stood out. ‘ _What is this about? ’_ From Erestor- well, there was no harm in trying, right? And he _had_ said he had a rough childhood.

                ‘ _I’ve got a kid that I’m taking care of. Comes from a rough home, and I can’t get him to talk to me. Any clues? ’_

                The next response took a good 10 minutes. ‘ _Angry, sad, or quiet? ’_ Was his answer, and he could’ve wept in relief. Obviously, he _did_ know something about it.

                ‘ _Mostly sad, I think. Quiet too, he’s not angry. We’re having a conversation that could end with his dad in jail, and he doesn’t want to do it. Won’t tell me why. I think I scare him. ’_ There. That last part was hard to admit, but it was fairly obvious.

                He ended up stepping back into Legolas’ room for a few minutes. “Hey, I’m going to have to go handle something for a few minutes. You gonna be okay here?”

                Legolas seemed happy he was leaving, and he tried not to let that hurt his feelings. He mostly failed. “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

                It was almost half an hour before he received his next one. ‘ _Sorry, had to give my patient her bath. My brother was like that. He’s scared they won’t win and he’ll be left with his dad. Not scared of you, prob., but the situation. Prob. Thinks he’s a burden. Happens a lot. ’_ He sat down, this time in the Hospital cafeteria for a moment and pulled the card out of his pocket; it had the name, number, and address written on it in a cheerful font.

                ‘ _You think there’s anything I can d? ’_

_‘ *do?’_

A few more minutes. ‘ _Not unless  you have years, or some way to convince him he won’t be back with his dad. ’_

                Damn. How was he going to do that? ‘ _Thanks. ’_

_‘ YW.’_

                He suddenly had a thought and called the number. He knew this wasn’t a _normal_ thing, but for a while his own custody lawyer had debated doing it with one of his girlfriends (thankfully, Glorfindel had the sense to break up with her before he could). “Afternoon! Bilbo Baggins at your service. What can I do for you today?”

                He swallowed. “Hi. I-uh- I’m taking care of a kid while we take his dad to court for abuse. Is there any way that you know of to get legal guardianship?” A legal guardian- his dad wouldn’t be able to take him back, not until after he turned 18, and by then, Legolas could live wherever he wanted.

                “Oh my. Quite a question. There are a few ways. Why don’t you come into my office, and we’ll discuss it? And this child- how old is he?”

                The voice on the phone had been nothing but kind, so he set up an appointment in high hopes- and then realized it was on Friday after he’d hung up. He bit back a curse, and then an idea popped into his head. He scrolled through the numbers and found his new trainees. “Gimli! Hi, yes, this is Glorfindel. How do you feel about moving your probationary period and pay for night manager up about a week? Yes, if you could start on Friday, that would be great. Yes, this Friday. Great, thanks.” The young man sounded overjoyed- as he recalled, he’d been out of work from the factory for almost 2 months, had to move back in with his family, and didn’t even have enough cash for gas, so the idea of getting to work a week earlier than expected, with the same amount of pay, must have appealed to him greatly.

                Next came Egalmoth, whom he offered the same deal, but for the morning shift. It, too, was accepted, though with some reluctance.

                He’d been gone almost an hour and decided to call the gym; Henry answered. “Gondolinian Fitness Center, Gym and Spa, this is Henry, how can I help you?”

                Glorfindel bit back a smile. “Hey Henry, this is Fin. Just wanted to check in and see how everything’s going.”

                “Oh! It’s fine, sir, we’ll call you if we need anything. Everyone’s preparing for Thanksgiving in a few weeks- we’re almost empty.”

                “Okay, thanks. And Henry?”

                “Yes sir?”

                “You’ve worked for me for 9 years. I think you can call me Fin, now.”

                “Yes sir- Fin. Is there anything else?”

                “Nope, that’s it.” He answered, and hung up. Henry would call him Fin for about a week, maybe, before it would be Mr. Columbine and Sir again.

                He headed back upstairs again, and stopped off in Legolas’ room. “Hey, I’m back. Just had to make a few phone calls.”

                The boy reassured him that it was fine, and marked his place in his book again. “So, I was talking with this lawyer guy, Bilbo, and I’ve got an appointment with him this Friday. I’d like it if you’d come with me.” He was careful not to phrase it as an order, and more as a question, remembering that unlike his daughter, Legolas probably wouldn’t argue if he didn’t want to go.

                He shifted a little. “I- um, okay. Sure. When do I need to be ready?”

                They set times, and Glorfindel left again, this time to the school. The rain had only gotten worse, and after pouring down all day and night yesterday and today, there was some pretty massive flooding. Apparently, one of the gym’s roofs had fallen in, and he had to go get his daughter- though if he knew Tauriel well enough, she’d just roll her eyes at him for waiting in traffic, give him a quick thanks, and that’d be all she wrote. “Why am I thinking about Murder, She Wrote? I don’t even like that show.” He asked no one in particular as he waited in the long line that was barely moving. His phone rang again, and he groaned; cell phones were fun until you had to depend on them for work.

                Without looking at the caller ID, he answered. “Glorfindel speaking.”

                “So professional! My, my, I like a man in uniform, but you don’t have those, do you?” Erestor drawled on the other end of the line, promptly turning Glorfindel into a golden-haired tomato.

                “Well, there’s a uniform _shirt_. I can wear that.”

                There was a little huff of laughter. “Tempting, but that’s actually not what I was calling for.”

                He smiled back, honestly regretting that this wasn’t face-to-face. He was very expressive, Glorfindel had found- at least with his eyes, though the rest of his face could be blank as canvas. “And what were you calling for?” He returned, still keeping his eyes on the seemingly-endless line before him. Occasionally, they moved forward, but it wasn’t by any means fast.

                “The kid. The way you’re taking care of him- it’s very sweet.” There was something oddly vulnerable in the tone, and he found himself wondering if Erestor had ever had anyone to take care of _him_.

                He shook his head, rolled his eyes at his own action, and responded. “I’m just doing what’s right- nothing sweet about it.”

                “Hmm. You’re acting like sweet’s an insult.” He teased, and the line moved forward a little.

                Glorfindel blustered for a second. “Well, it’s- girly.” ‘ _Girly?’_ He thought to himself. ‘ _All the adjectives in the world, and I’m stuck on girly?’_

                Erestor snorted, seemingly unoffended, and the line moved forward again. “Poor baby!” He joked. “Called a girly name! Oh, well, I suppose I could call you something else, yes?”

                “Yes.” He confirmed, turning sharply and fighting the urge to cuss at some idiot kid on a bicycle who decided to go _between_ cars. “Almost anything else.”

                He could almost _see_ the sly smile creeping up on that tawny face, framed by warm brown eyes and black hair. “Anything? I’ll have to think of a few, then. Anyway, to reward you for being _sweet_ ,” he said, putting emphasis on the last word, “I was thinking of inviting you over for dessert.”

                “Dessert? I guess, sure. Where?”

                He laughed again. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m inviting you to my place for sex.” He said bluntly, and Glorfindel slammed on the brakes.

                “I- _what_?” He gasped out, voice getting a little higher.

                There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Look, Fin, I’m not going to make this offer again, at least not for a while. It’s a little embarrassing to call someone up for this and get questioned.”

                He blinked at the vulnerability in the tone, and realized that he was indeed embarrassed. “Trust me, I’m not refusing. Just- this is a little fast, don’t you think? Not complaining, though.” He added on, just in case.

                The line moved forward again, and so did Glorfindel after he was honked at. “Not for me, it isn’t- and nobody says we can’t still do the whole dating thing afterwards. Tell you what, pick a day when you’re not doing anything and you don’t expect to get any calls, and come over. No plans- just enjoy yourself. I’ll even make actual food, if you’d like.” He offered.

                “Okay. I’ll- text you I guess? Is that okay for this? Or should I just-“

                The line moved forward again, and thankfully, some of Erestor’s dry chuckles ran out. Apparently, he hadn’t made too much of a mess of things. “Texting is fine. I’ve got to let you go, work calls.” He answered.

                They said their goodbyes, and he was left red-faced in his truck when he picked up his daughter. “Dad? Are you okay?”

                “Yep. Fine.”

                “You sure? You’re kinda red.”

                “Definitely fine, Tauriel.” Judging by the snickers, he hadn’t convinced her. But he did head home with a smile on his face, the day having ended better than it had begun.    


	13. Last Friday Night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I can't believe I was able to get the next chapter out this fast! Please tell me what you think. I'm going to date the next few chapters to see if that's a little easier to keep up with time flow for both myself and you guys. 
> 
> Please enjoy! Also, the Native American blanket- I just used mine for inspiration, it's purple, yellow, white, black, and green with a God's Eye pattern.

Nov. 11, 2016

                Tauriel had begged and whined to the point of him almost extending the length of her grounding by a few weeks. In the end, she’d decided to be reasonable and went to school today. Legolas guilt-tripping her about the fact that he _couldn’t_ go might have had something to do with it, too. He thought it was sweet that she wanted to be there for her friend, but he had a surprise for both of them, and it was easier to keep without Tauriel interrogating him.

                Tonight will be the first night for Legolas in his new home, and with that in mind, they did a little shopping before heading to the lawyer’s office so that he could wear something nice. Glorfindel himself only had two suits, only one of which actually _fit_ , so he got himself one while they were there as well. Suit might have been a little over the mark- black slacks, blue shirt and tie, and a navy coat for Glorfindel, while Legolas wore kakis, a cornflower blue shirt, black tie, and a new black jacket.

                They then drove to Bag End, which was a cozy little place- almost a cottage, really- on the city side of the Shire. As agreed upon during a quick phone call yesterday, the guardianship papers were not discussed, though Bilbo had a cunning little smile on his pixie-like face for the first part of the meeting.

                The curly-haired man seemed to have a personal vendetta against Smaug, which Glorfindel saw as a plus. He was probably the only lawyer in the county who wasn’t intimidated by that cold-blooded lizard lawyer of Thranduil’s. They did, however, discuss court dates and exchanged documents- endless pages of legal and police jargon with a good 2 dozen handwritten testimonies. They would meet with the lawyers on both sides on the 18th, which seemed both too soon and too far away.

                After that, they got lunch- chilli dogs from the mall food court- and as promised a few weeks ago, they got Legolas some clothes of his own to wear. Within an hour and a half, they returned to the house, and left back to Glorfindel’s house.

                In Legolas’ opinion, houses had moods just like their owners. His own was dark, oppressive, and brooding, and this- this was Tauriel’s sarcasm combined with Glorfindel’s good humor.

                “So!” Glorfindel chirped brightly after they’d hung and folded the clothes and put them up. “How do you like the room?” The room in question was about the same size as Tauriel’s and right beside hers. Glorfindel had one of Dis’ _many_ cousins to paint it a soft green- not hospital green, thankfully- more like a peridot (or at least that’s what the paint swatch said). The birch hardwood flooring present throughout the home continued on into this room, unbroken by rugs or carpets yet. The bed was a queen size, same as Tauriel’s, with a worn but soft set of blue cotton sheets and a woolen Native American patterned blanket in bright colors.

                There was a white-washed nightstand from the guestroom beside his bed, with an almost-matching shade of white set of drawers pressed in one corner next to a pair of plain white shelves which had already been in the room previously. In place of a closet, a standing birch armoire sat right beside the shelves. Legolas’ bow case, the only dark piece in the room, leaned on it, and Glorfindel had already shown him the weapons’ case in the hall closet with his and Tauriel’s quivers, a multitude of arrows, and Glorfindel’s own hunting weapons as well as fishing poles and nets.

                It was smaller than his own room, and the open window let in an almost painful amount of light; Glorfindel hadn’t yet installed curtains, and it let in the scent of the wildflowers in the garden below. “I love it.” He said in perfect honesty, and Glorfindel beamed at him.

                “Well, I’m going to be gone for a while, but go ahead and make yourself comfortable. You already know where everything is- I’d prefer you stay upstairs or downstairs since you’re still on crutches, but go wherever.”

                Legolas nodded, and had a seat on the comfortable bed. The emotional drainage of finally making the choice to continue on with the charges (they’d had a long talk before their first shopping trip) had caught up with him, and he thought he might take a nap.

                When Tauriel got home, a few hours later, they watched a series of horror movies in which they both yelled at the screen repeatedly, and it started to feel a little more like home.

* * *

 

Friday, November 11th.

                As promised, Erestor drove to Ori and Dwalin’s shared place, which was just behind the tattoo shop on Friday, ingredients in his bags, and they set to making dinner. By majority rule, Dwalin was allowed nowhere near the kitchen due to the Great Kitchen Debacle of March 2012 (it was a long story, but involved several cats, a kimono, apple strudel, and sheperd’s pie. Yes, it was as odd as it sounds.), and so he and Ori cooked in relative peace. Daisy napped on the floor in front of the door with Dwalin’s Rottweiler after they tired one another out with playing, and within a few hours, they had their usual mixed fare. Erestor tended to make Asian, Hispanic, or Cajun food, while Ori stayed firmly with Irish or the occasional German dish, so they usually had two or three dishes from completely different cultures. Tonight, it was Schweinshaxe from Ori and Enchiladas from himself.

                Friday dinners weren’t an every Friday thing, but they were regular enough that Erestor didn’t get too surprised if the pair ended up at his doorstep on Friday night, and they didn’t seem remotely confused if he ended up on their doorstep. In fact, planning it like they had on Wednesday was odd for them.

                Dinner was nice, as usual, as was Ori’s goop on the parts of his back that he just couldn’t reach without scratching and risking ruining the tattoo. All in all, it was an uneventful night for them- he took the remaining Schweinshaxe which was in one of his dishes anyway, and Dwalin called dibs on the remains of the Enchiladas. He did, however, have a short talk with Dwalin while Ori was upstairs searching for the moisturizer used specifically for ink.

                “You’ve got to ask him!” He hissed in a whisper.

                “I haven’t found the right time. Maybe later.” Dwalin responded.

                Erestor scowled. “If you don’t ask him, I’m going to ask him for you, and then he’s going to call you a cowa-“

                “Ask me what?” Ori had interrupted.

                And grinning like the cat that ate the canary, he was witness to his friends’ engagement before he left with Daisy.


	14. The Shopping Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Arwen and Tauriel go shopping. Tauriel definitely needs help, and Legolas starts crawling out of his shell again. Our friendly neighborhood Glorfindel will be *very* busy with Erestor on Wednesday, so look for that in Drunk Texts 5: Date Night. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Saturday, November 12

                Tauriel, as usual, was up at dawn. She got dressed quickly, padded into the hall, and a quick glance told her Legolas was still asleep. Her Dad’s bed was empty, door wide open. On silent feet, she stalked downstairs and shook her head in amusement when she saw a glass of orange juice and waffles on the table. Saturday was always waffle day. Before her parents got divorced, the day started at 6 or 7 in the morning- but her Dad was a lover of naps, and usually started his day far earlier. Tauriel had fallen into the habit as well- when she was younger, she knew if she got up early enough, her Dad would let her watch early morning cartoons, or take her outside for walks when it was still dark outside. And, of course, she’d get to watch the sun rise.

                Her dad was scratching down a note for someone- probably Legolas- when she came into the living room. “Hey.” She whispered, and his eyes crinkled up with a smile in response. The note was left on the coffee table, he tossed her a spare bottle of water, and they left through the wide French doors in the back for morning run. When they returned, the sun had finally risen, though still low in the sky, and they rinsed off sweat and got dressed just as quietly as before.

                Legolas was stirring and stepping out into the hallway with a yawn at around 7, and found waffles and orange juice waiting on his bed when he returned from his own shower. There was a rap at his door once he’d sat down, and Tauriel let herself in, flopping ungracefully on the bed. “Going shopping with Arwen today. Wanna come?” She asked, voice slightly muffled with the bedspread.

                He yawned again. “It depends. Is all day going to be girly stuff?”

                Tauriel snorted. “I’m going to let Arwen take me wherever she wants. So yeah, probably.”

                Legolas played with her long red braid distractedly. “Nah, I don’t think so. I might see if one of the guys has anything planned.”

                “Okay. You at least have to meet us for lunch, though.” She demanded, worried about this fog that he’d been under.

                “Scouts honor.” He promised, and she gave him a friendly hug before heading downstairs once more.

* * *

 

                Dad let me drive the little red car downtown and headed back- probably to the gym, maybe home. I met Arwen in the little dress shop we’d agreed on, ‘ _Ladies of Lorien ’_. I was more than a little out of my depth. “Hey. Thanks for the help- what do we need to do?”

                Arwen giggled at me. “Oh, you’re welcome- smile!”

                Before I could do much more than blink, there was the ‘click’ of her camera, and she smiled. “There! Before and after pictures. So are you wanting something long, short, light….?”

                I shrugged and thought for a moment. “Long, I guess, but I could do short.”

                She sighed and put perfectly manicured hands to her face. “OMG, I was really hoping you’d give me a few outfit ideas to work with.” Then she straightened her lavender skirt and blouse combo and flipped her black hair over her shoulder. “Okay. I can do this.” Addressing me again, she commanded “We’re going to walk through this store, I’m going to pick things that might look good, you’ll try them on and tell me what you think. Okay?”

                “Sure.” I confirmed, and I could have sworn I heard her say something about ‘dumb jocks’. I let it slide- for now, at least.

                We ended up going through 3 different stores before hitting ‘ _Vaire’s ’_. And Arwen, true to form, squealed when I tried on the last one, a knee-length dress that she said was an emerald strapless A-line with gold lace decals and faux corset. _Don’t_ ask me what _any_ of that means. I have no clue. It’s green, pretty, in the budget, and that’s all that matters.

                Arwen got herself a navy floor-length in a similar style with what she called Queen Anne lace in silver on the front, collar, hem, and arms. And then my relief ended, because she brought up the subject of shoes. Arwen had a pair of black heels she wanted to wear, but I’ve always valued practicality over beauty. I have two sets of running shoes, a set of hiking boots, a regular pair of boots, and some wellies for fishing- and that’s it. She gave me the same look she gives Aragorn when he says something along the lines of ‘I don’t need to  shave’ or ‘no, we’re not wearing matching costumes for Halloween.’ In typical Arwen fashion, which ended with Aragorn clean-shaven before our last dance, and in a superman costume to her Lois Lane, she got what she wanted.

                2 more stores, and I ended up with a set of nice black leather boots and matching leather purse. She gave up on me when it came to makeup and picked things out for me- I probably wouldn’t wear it. We both agreed that a manicure wouldn’t last the day with me, so I called my dad to ask for permission again. And wasn’t that irritating? It was a yes, Arwen squealed, and we toted our bags to a busy restaurant called ‘ _Saelbeth’s Bar & Grill_’. As promised, Legolas joined us, accompanied by my Dad.

                We ate a little, Arwen’s Dad- who looks _beyond_ exhausted- came to pick her up, and Legolas and my Dad proceeded to tease me mercilessly.  Dad mentioned he’d be out of touch on Wednesday but wouldn’t say why. Bonus points, though- if I don’t ask him why, the last 2 weeks of my grounding will be cancelled, so it’d only be a month and a half. For once, I don’t question him- I hate being grounded. It’s not even the grounding itself. It’s that I can’t go where I want when I want. And the fact that I’ve disappointed my Dad. But I’m not going to admit to the last part.

                Facebook notified me that Bard’s fishing trip was cancelled- apparently with 6 out of our 10 not coming (Aragorn had promised to take Arwen out for their 3 year dating anniversary, and Faramir had tryouts for some UIL thing), but we were still invited to go and hang out. Looks like _everyone_ is missing a yacht party.


	15. Education

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is kind of important for the rest of the series, so I wanted to go ahead and put it up. It's short, I know, but we'll get back to the main stuff later. I needed to get Gimli enrolled. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and tell me what you think! Also, is the date at the top of the chapter easier to read for you, or would you prefer that I just leave it off?

Tuesday, November 15

                I had tried to get in touch with Turgon several times over the week, weekend, and yesterday, and finally I got a call back. Unfortunately, it wasn’t with good news. He said that Elenwe’s surgery had been successful- but they found stage 4 liver cancer. The doctors had made it clear that she wasn’t going to live more than a few weeks. Turgon, Elenwe, and their 12 year old daughter, Idril, were taking the next flight out to M.D. Anderson’s cancer center to get a second opinion from people specialized in Oncology. I put in a leave of absence for him, wished him luck, and called everyone for a staff meeting.

                Egalmoth was assigned Turgon’s shift- still on probation, of course, and I asked to speak with Gimli privately.

                I spend most of my time in the gym actually on the floor- but I do have an office. Sort of. I share with my accountant, Duilin, who had scheduled time off several weeks ago. He actually only came in once a week anyway. The office had a tile floor, cinder block walls covered with soundproofing boards, and a single L-shaped desk with 4 chairs. I gestured to a seat and took the one beside the other man instead of behind the desk. Whenever I see someone sitting behind a desk, I think of being fired or reprimanded, so unless someone needs to be fired- thinking of you, Maeglin- I always pick the chair beside them.

                “Alright Gimli, I’m going to be honest.” And for some reason, the bearded man looks terrified. “Don’t worry, you’re not being fired or anything like that- I intend to take you off probation a little early. You’ve got more experience in this field.”

                I accept the gruff thanks with a nod and continue. “The only problem is you don’t have the type of education that Egalmoth does. If I take you off of probation early, and you have less of an education, that means I have to take him off early too. And I don’t think he’s ready for that.”

                I reach for some papers behind me- they’re a thick stack, and I spent most of this morning talking to people up at the college and the Workforce Commission about this. “I’m going to need you to have at least a certificate in the athletic training field.” I say, handing the papers over. “It’s a 2 year college thing, but they count experience. You could have it done in a semester or two.”

                I send him off after he promises to at least fill the papers out and turn them in, and get out on the floor myself. I don’t feel like being here today, but when has that mattered to a business?


	16. Difficult Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Gimli deal with some difficult questions, and have to do some thinking.   
> A/N: I'm handling some stuff right now, so I'm probably not going to be updating soon. Don't worry, I intend to have the next chapter up next month, on schedule. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

Wednesday, November 16

                “You are going to turn those in- _today._ ” My Dad orders. It’s been the same with most of my family, with the exception of Ori, Dwalin, Dain, and Nori; no matter how many times I tell them I’ll do it, I’m warned that they’ll kill me in a variety of ways (Dis was the most creative, Thorin the most terrifying) if I don’t go to college.  That’s my mistake, I suppose- when my Dad, Glóin, asked what happened yesterday, I was honest.

                I miss the good days- when my Dad still worked as a banker, before Mom left, and before the Mahal-damned recession got half my family laid off. Kili and Fili like the fact that we’re close- no matter how many times I tell them about the trips we used to take, the old family estate in Khazad-Dum- they like being close to family. Fili asked me, a few days ago, if I could choose the money we used to have or the family we have now, what I would choose.

                I’m sad to say I didn’t have an answer for him.

                The only reason Kili got into a good school was his brain- and the fact that he can shoot. If not, he’d be in the crappy public school that used to be pretty good until it came under new management. Now, it’s still _called_ Erebor High, but that’s only for a few more years. Once the contract runs out, it’ll be renamed Moria.

                Once I turn the corner, I pull out a cigarette and light it. I’m not allowed to smoke in the house- technically, I’m not allowed to smoke at all, but as long as I can say I’ve just been around smokers, it’s fine. Dad probably knows.

                It’s late morning, early afternoon, by the time I reach the college. Thorin’s at work and couldn’t drive me, Nori’s bike has been re-possessed _again_ , Ori and Dwalin are stuck at the shop, Dis is cleaning at somebody’s house, and so I’m pretty much stuck walking. I guess I could have called that friend of Ori and Dwalin’s- Ernesto? Edward? I don’t know off the top of my head, and that ended up deciding it for me. Why would I call somebody for a ride when I don’t even know their name?

                I was raised better than that.

                I stop off in the men’s restroom for a few seconds, throw on another layer of deodorant, run a comb through my hair, and then through my beard (I’m very proud of it), and change into my spare shirt. The weather’s gotten cold, so I’m not sweaty, but Dis made me carry a button-down in my bag. Apparently, red plaid flannel over a white shirt screams ‘lumberjack’ instead of ‘college material.’ After zipping everything up, I head back to the main office.

                I’ve worked as a lumberjack before. I’m considering going back in- I’ll have to get a degree in forestry, but it’d be worth it. Unlike this. But this is the only job that I’m actually qualified for that’s opened up in weeks, the only employer who was willing to hire me, even on probation, in months. I’ve got a family to feed, and maybe with this, I’ll be able to help pay them back.

                Well, I’ve got to get a car first, but that’s already on my list of things to do. I visited Nori in the pen a week ago- shoplifting, got caught with weed on him- and he’s already agreed that if I can pay the bills on it, I can have his bike. I’ve got my eye on this truck, though- it’s in the lot, not too far from where I’m standing. It’s used, about 4 years old, but it’s something that I can afford, if I save up for a few months, maybe a year. I’ve taken a look at the bills for Nori’s bike- the truck would be cheaper, anyway.

                “Gimli Durinson!” A middle-aged woman calls. Well, that’s me.

                At least Mr. Columbine was right- they do consider work experience. I’ve got a couple of math classes- which suck- a few writing classes, and finally some medical and physical fitness classes. It won’t be the promised 2 semesters- more like 4, since I have to take remedial math first. At least my scores on everything else were fine.

                I’m quickly shuffled off to the financial aid department, where I have to call my dad to get his tax information. I don’t put my mom’s information down as they’re divorced. And now I have to wait for a few months for the current semester to end and for financial aid to show up. There are a few good things, though- apparently, with my income being what it is, I’m eligible for housing at the college, financial aid will pay the food bills, and I can get a reduced price bus pass.

                I hate asking this question, but my family will kill me if I don’t. “Will this affect my food stamps?”

                Damn. I might have an answer for Fili after all- have you ever wondered what it’s like to not share a room with your brother and cousin, and not be on food stamps? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have to wonder if you’re going to eat this week? I take a good long look at the college housing forms and consider it- because I _have_ wondered those things. Better yet, I’ve lived them out. We were never really rich, but we were middle class, and well off enough.

                I finish my enrollment, and honestly regret not having the time throughout the day to make a work-study position viable. I take a good look through the dorms and make my decision. Sometimes, a guy just needs a bit of a break. The older ones- they’ll understand. Maybe not Fili and Kili, but everyone else will.

                Ori and Dwalin share a 1-bedroom apartment; Dain lives on the 1 bedroom loft above his tattoo shop. All of the rest of us- me, Kili, Fili, Dis, Thorin, Bifur, Bofur, Balin, Dori, Nori, Bombur, and Dad- share one house. One house with  5 rooms. Nori, when he’s not in trouble, sleeps in the attic. Bombur sleeps in the basement, and Bifur sleeps in the living room. Sharing a room with just one person, by comparison, seems like a hotel suite. I accept the offer to tour the dorms, call Dad on Nori’s borrowed cell phone, and head to work after changing my shirt.  

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday, November 16

                Everybody’s getting ready for Thanksgiving Break. They’re also getting ready for the fall formal which will be held on the Friday before it. After the whole debacle, I agreed to Tauriel’s demands that I _not_ assume she was sleeping with her brother- because that, according to her, was what Legolas was. And I wouldn’t sleep with my brother, now would I?

                Ew. I share a bunk bed with him, but that’s about as close as it gets and as I want it to get. Then again, I also share a room with Gimli, so I don’t complain about Fili too much. At least he doesn’t snore like Gimli- every breath in is a revving chainsaw, every breath out an elephant trumpeting. Well, that’s what it sounds like, anyway.

                I made my own counter-demand to Tauriel, which I was happy she agreed to- trying not to be so stand-offish. At least to me. Over the months since Legolas was first hospitalized, she’s warmed up a bit- apparently most of the bitchy attitude was from crap that happened at home. I can understand that. Better than a lot of our teammates, I thought. Now, though, I’m not so sure. Faramir has a crappy life at home, that I know. Elladan and Elrohir- when combined, I think they may make 2/3ds of the Anti-Christ.

                According to Tauriel, they were always pranksters and jokesters. They never got really crazy until their mom died. The rest of the team confirmed it, so I’ve got no choice but to believe her.

                Bard’s got a friggin _yacht!_ How could that be bad? I didn’t think there could be a downside until he started talking about the party. Yeah, we could all come, no his parents, sisters, and brother wouldn’t be there. His parents were never there, the brother was in a boarding school, Sigrid and Tilda (his sisters) were at a different one. He says it’s not so bad- they get to visit three times a year, and in _his_ boarding school, they were allowed only one visit. But his parents didn’t care to be around now anyway.

                Now that those cats are out of the proverbial bag, I don’t know what to expect from Aragorn, Tauriel (besides the anger issues), Halbarad, Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil. I kinda don’t want to ask. But I also really want to know. So, when all else fails, during out free hour (the team, except for Legolas and the Twins still meet on the field), we practice for a little while, and I plop down next to Faramir.

                “Okay, so I’m getting the idea that rich people have problems.”

                The brown-haired boy looks at me in obvious confusion. I can’t blame him- that wasn’t exactly a good way to start something off. We’re in the hide-away behind the stands, and we’re playing an archery version of shot-put. His arrows are blue, he has to hit all the yellow targets. Mine are yellow, and I have to hit all the blue ones- pretty simple, and I’m already losing. I’m a good archer by any standard; but Faramir? I don’t know why Faramir isn’t a freaking Olympic competitor in archery by now. There are only three people I know of that can meet or beat him in speed shooting where accuracy is necessary, like this game. Aragorn, Haldir, and Tauriel. Apparently, Legolas is the best, but I haven’t really gotten a chance to see him in action.

                “That might have been a weird way to start.” I admit, and take my shot as Haldir yells “PULL!”. I hit it enough to knock it off course, but not enough to break it or go into the center. “That’s a 1!” Orophin calls up after picking it up. A 1 is a hit to the edge, 2 is a hit to the bright green ring just around the center, 3 is a complete break, and 4 is a hit to the direct center. I wave to acknowledge it, and step back for Faramir.   Tauriel’s actually the one who partners us up, and I have to admit, she’s done it wisely. The most inexperienced with the most experienced- I’ll end up having an extra turn, but watching somebody else does tend to help.

                “A little.” He says, and puts an arrow to the string. He doesn’t draw it yet, like I do- I’m not sure why, really.

                “Not going to get ready?” I ask, and he shook his head, eyes on the machine.

                “I am. Hold it too long, you shake.”

                I shrug, but wait. Maybe this is one of those ‘you have to see to believe’ things. “PULL”! Faster than I can keep up with, though I haven’t taken my eyes off of him, he pulls the string, sights, and fires. “4!” Orophin calls up.

                We switch again, and the conversation is dropped in order to give me some pointers. Once it’s his turn again, I continue.

                “Do all of you have terrible things happen to you?” I ask, and he frowns, still not looking away from the machine.

                “Everyone does. Everyone keeps it secret. That’s how it works.”

                I shrug. “You know, in my family, we tend to talk about things.”

                He frowns and fires. I hear the crash, and “3!”. We switch.

                “Everybody has secrets. Even your family.”

                “2!” I swear under my breath. I thought for sure I’d get it that time! “Yeah, probably.” I agree. “But what about the rest of the team? Is there something I should know?”

                He looks at me- really looks, in that Faramir-esque fashion; it’s the way he looks at star-maps or physics equations that take up a whole 3 boards. He’s trying to figure me out. He can have at it- _I_ don’t even understand myself sometimes. He takes his place, and gets another 4.

                “I’ll tell you what you want to know about me. Ask whatever. But not about them. You have to ask them yourself.”

                “How can I just go up and ask- what’s your life like? And if they asked me what mine is- how do I answer that without pissing people off?” ‘ _Or making them think less of me.’_ But that thought goes unsaid.

                Faramir nods, as if I’ve just proven some sort of point. “You want all the answers without having to ask questions. So you’re not ready for the answers.”

                Needless to say, I’m confused. I take the final shot, and Faramir leaves, replaced by the ever-scowling Halbarad.


	17. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's the newest chapter of Archer's Notes! This takes place immediately after Drunk Texts 5: Date Night. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, the story will still make sense, but DT5 has the sex. From both points of view- so two chapters of sex. I may not be able to update for a while, fair warning. Please let me know what you think!

Thursday, November 17

 

           My bed is shifting. That’s not uncommon for me, especially when I consider the fact that I’m pleasantly sore. What is surprising is that an alarm goes off- Glorfindel stayed the night.  
  
           Immediately, my firm pillow moves again, and groans, rolling over to smack at the phone. I roll over as well, and turn it off, sitting up on the edge of my bed with a yawn. A warm arm wraps around my waist and attempts to pull me backwards. I tense- early in the morning, I’m not so good at telling reality from fantasy. It’s what makes me good at my job.  
  
           Supplying nightmare fuel.  
  
            “Morning.” He rasps, and presses his lips against the top of my spine.  
  
            “Mm-hmm.” I agree forcing myself to relax. This is just Glorfindel, not any of the monsters- no, people- I’ve been in bed with previously. None of the ones who gave me a reason to be ready to smash an elbow in behind me and run. That in mind, I turn my head a little to confirm what the conscious part of my mind already knows- it’s just Glorfindel. “Sleep Well?” I ask, planting a kiss on his shoulder. My mouth surely tastes terrible- no reason to inflict morning breath, semen, and the admittedly not-so-bad strawberry lube on him.  
  
           He props himself up on one elbow, and though his hair is a mess, his eyes are bright, and he looks way too awake for this time of morning.  
  
           Finally, he lets me go and sits up. “Pretty good.” With a teasing grin, he adds, “Somebody tired me out.”  
  
           I roll my eyes at the cheeky grin, and suddenly there are lips on mine. This isn’t one of the hot kisses meant to enflame from last night, but all the same, his hand is on the back of my neck, and his tongue flicks around my lips. Unthinking, I grant him entrance, and stifle laughter when he pulls back, clearly disgusted.  
  
           He makes an odd face and sits up. “If that’s what it tastes like, I hope you don’t mind if I use mouthwash instead of lube when I return the favor.”  
  
           I snort, but I can feel myself smiling. “Intend on returning it, then? And no, that would burn. I can pick up something minty.”  
  
           He leans over, nips at my ear, and adds, “I fully intend to. And maybe next time- a night when we don’t have to get up early?”  
  
           That serves as a reminder, and I lean back into his bulk for just a second longer to check my phone. 6:15- I’d better get going. “Not a bad idea. Think you can drop by on a Saturday or Sunday some time?” I set my feet on the ground, and he rubs my arm up and down for a moment.  
  
            “Sounds good.” He responds, and I stand up, heading to my bathroom in the dark.  
  
            “You-“I fight off a hiss as I turn on the light, absentmindedly grabbing a towel. “Are a cuddler, aren’t you?” I don’t cuddle. I don’t even try to cuddle. That little stint in the bedroom- 5 or 10 minutes of just letting him touch me- that’s about as close as I get to cuddling.  
  
           I hear him grunt and the bed creak from the other room as I start up the shower. As always, I have to wait a minute for the water to heat up. “Consider me a giant teddy bear when I wake up.” He calls, and I can’t help but smile. It’s not hard to imagine- not at all. “Is that going to be an issue?” He asks as I pull the curtain to, and his voice has gone oddly plaintive. I find myself wondering- has this been an issue before, with someone else? Or has he been honest (unlikely, considering the type of men and women I bring home), and been pretty much alone except for his daughter, who hardly would have kept him company at night. At least- they don’t act like it, if they do. She’s not scared of him; he’s not domineering over her. I file that away as a ‘probably not’; I know too well what that looks like, and neither of them fit the proverbial bill.  
  
           Quickly, I rinse my mouth out, both to rid myself of the taste and buy myself a few seconds. “Probably not.” I answer as soon as I can- I have to add the probably. Who knows? Most wake-ups may be worse than today. I’ve decked someone more than once. “As long as you don’t mind me bringing my laptop over so I can do something while you- cuddle, or whatever.”  
  
           There’s some barely-stifled laughter from the other room, and I quickly rinse out my hair before grabbing the soap. “You sound like I’m imprisoning you or something.” He says with a chuckle, and I part the curtain just a little to see him (unfortunately) back in underwear. Maybe it’s a good thing, though- I’ve got places to be.  
  
            “You’re not used to sex.” I state plainly, seeing no reason to soften the blow. “I’m not used to waking up next to the same person I laid down beside.” I shrug and go back to my shower, turning it off once I’m done.  
  
           When I step out and dry myself off, draping a towel around my waist, he’s looking at me, oddly pensively. “Why?” He asks simply, and I raise an eye-brow.  
  
           I shrug once more and head to my closet, tossing him his own pants. “Oh, I don’t know. Sex is fun. Relationships- not so much, usually.” That’s the understatement of the century, but I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking in a way that doesn’t scare him off. I settle for, “Most of the actual relationships I have end up with fists, a hospital, and me changing out the locks.” Once again, not the complete truth, but true enough.  
  
           He seems to think over this for a second, and I decide to interrupt that thought process before it can start. A flick of my wrist has my towel on the floor, and judging by the sharp inhale, I have been successful. I tug on an undershirt- this time in red- and listen to him try to get his thoughts together all the while. Red or blue? “Do you just- pick them up at the asshole factory?”  
  
           I laugh and bend to grab some underwear. I glance back over my shoulder when I stand up, and it looks like those jeans aren’t fitting quite as well as they did when he came in. I tug my own underwear and then pants on in an economical fashion instead of the reverse strip tease I could be doing. I really do have things to do- and sadly enough, he isn’t on my ‘to do’ list. I turn to face him as I tug on my over shirt, which serves as my jacket in the chilly weather. His eyes are suspiciously dark, and I mentally add him on said list. “Bars, mostly. So yeah. Asshole factory.” There was that one guy from the cemetery, though- he was sweet. Kept calling me an incubus, though, and I wasn’t feeling like a threesome when his girlfriend showed up.  
  
           I bend once again, this time to pull on my socks and shoes. “You want to go out again after this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice carefully flat. I’ve had far too many promise me things- like this, like something that would last more than a month or two- and then up and leave. Sometimes, because I hold off on sex for a little while, some because I end up moving too fast. It’s either one or the other, really.  
  
           He doesn’t seem to catch my meaning. “Sure- you get off at seven, right? We can grab dinner or- that wasn’t what you were talking about, was it?”  
  
            He trailed off halfway, likely due to my little half-smile. It appears I haven’t moved too fast after all. I put my hands on his arms, reach up, and give him a kiss that probably tastes a lot better than the first. He seems to agree- his arms are promptly wrapped around me, and only the alarm beeping again gets me to step back. “No.” I say, a little breathlessly, and add, “But it was a good answer anyway.”  
  
           Quickly, I reach over, turn off my alarm, and slip past him- if I’m caught again, I may be too tempted to make the beast with two backs to actually do what I have to do today. There’s a grumble, and then a jingle as he follows me out of my room- the candles, thankfully, have all went out on their own. I glance back once I reach the back door, and he finishes buckling his belt on again, glancing around to find his shirt. “Want to meet Daisy?”  
  
           He glances over, a little confused for a second, before his face clears. “Oh, your dog? Yeah, why not?”  
  
           I undo the locks from the back door- the garage has a doggy door in case it rains, but it didn’t last night, so she should be right outside. And I open the door. Immediately, I’m besieged by a barking Pitbull/Rottweiler/something else (I think maybe a Dane? Dwalin thinks she’s part Lab) mix. I talk to my favorite mutt for a few minutes, scratching behind her ears and shoulders before she decides that I’m not about to leave quite just yet and stops trying to jump on me. She knows better, but she gets a little excited- especially since she was kicked out last night. And then the growling starts.  
  
            “I don’t think she likes me.” He says, obviously a little nervous. Did his parents never tell him dogs smell fear?  
  
           I shake my head. “No, she just doesn’t like that you’re in the house before being properly introduced.” Properly introduced- it sounds crazy, I know, but unless I literally introduce her to people, she will bark at them. I pat her side firmly. “Daisy. Stop.”  
  
           Immediate silence. She’s still staring stiffly at him, as if daring him to move- which he does, to put on his shoes- but when I raise a hand, she stays where she is. I shut and lock the door behind her- it’s supposed to get down into the 30’s today- and fill up her food and water bowl. “Now Daisy, don’t be rude. Fin, Daisy. Daisy, fin.”  
  
           She grumbles at him in that curious way that dogs have, but sits herself down so that I can give her a treat- a compromise for the nights she’s stuck outside. “Bye, sweetheart.” I say, opening the side door to the garage and beckoning for him to follow.  He does, still glancing at Daisy warily. There’s a whine, and he goes still- there’s a heavy head in between the two of us, and she looks up as if I’m being incredibly mean. “What? You don’t want to be nice to our guest, so I’m having to leave early.” That’s not quite right- it’s already 6:40, and I need to go, but it’s true enough.  
  
           She whines again and butts her head against my leg. Obligingly, I reach down and scratch her. “Are you going to be rude? If you’re not going to be rude, you can come with me to work today.”  
  
           She pants open-mouthed, and the stub of her tail wags happily. “Okay, then say hello.” Before he can move back, I reach and grab Glorfindel’s arm. There’s no doubt that he could break my grip, and easily. It probably wouldn’t take him more than a second- but he slips the lower part of his arm around my waist, and holds out his hand, palm down. She just glares at him.  
  
            “Well, Daddy’s got to go, sweetheart. Love you.” She whines again and licks his hand- Fin, of course, the dummy that he is, immediately goes to pet her after that. It’s only by virtue of a very firm glare that he doesn’t end up with teeth in his wrist.  
  
            “And somehow, I still doubt that she likes me.” He says, stating the obvious.  
  
           I shake my head. “I’m sorry- she’s not normally like this. She’ll warm up to you.” I take a firm hold of her collar and brush my lips against his cheek. “Bye.”  
  
            “Bye.” He answers with a curious little smile, shaking his head at the dog. He leaves, shutting the garage door behind him, and I release Daisy. She promptly runs over to the door, sniffs it, and barks. I roll my eyes.  
  
           “What’s gotten into you?” I demand. As usual, she doesn’t answer. Quickly, I leash her, and add a muzzle- she whines about it, but it’s necessary with Mrs. Henderson. Not with the woman herself- she and Daisy get along just fine- but with David. Maybe it’s the fact that Glorfindel is a man? Come to think of it, both of them are blondes as well. It’s very possible that one of her owners in the fighting ring was a blonde man, and if so, that would explain it. I get her in the sidecar, quickly grab plastic bags, portable food and water bowls, and her breakfast, and ride off after slipping on my jacket. Time to go to work.

 

* * *

Thursday, November 17

 

          

            At about 5, I wake up- it’s the normal time, and I don’t even need my alarm. I left my phone in my truck’s glovebox, though, so I didn’t get any awkward calls. I don’t think I would have answered last night anyway- or my answer would have been uncomfortable for the caller, and incredibly rude on my part.

            I don’t get up as usual. I don’t know his neighborhood well enough to comfortably go for an early morning run, but that’s not it. It’s been a while since I slept in- even longer since I’ve woken up next to someone- and I intend to enjoy it. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten laid since I was divorced, but it _is_ the first time that I have the option to just lounge around in bed with them. I roll over onto my side, and gently wrap my arms around him, burying my head in that dark mass of hair.

            I must’ve drifted off because the next thing I know, there’s an annoying beeping, and Erestor is apparently deaf at this hour of the morning. I reach over to smack the clock- or phone, or whatever he uses- and fail miserably. He manages to turn it off, and sits up a little with a yawn. He was incredibly sensual the other night- today, with the dawning sun, weak though it is in winter, sending rays of light on his hair, his face- lines from the blinds cutting him into something more exotic- he’s beautiful. Huh. Shame I can never talk like that- all those pretty words get wasted.

            I sit up a little and tug him back into me- it’s far too early to give up this warmth, especially with the coming winter chill seeping through the walls. Suddenly, he’s as tense as a bowstring, and I have no clue _what_ I’ve done wrong. It’s pretty obvious, though, that there’s something. Unable to think of what could be causing this, I go back to my standard defense- physical affection. Yes, it sounds very strange, but it works. Sometimes. So I gently kiss the very top of his spine, where I’d nibbled and sucked last night as a good morning kiss, and manage to grit out, “Morning.” There’s a reason why my morning runs are nearly silent. My mind moves far faster than my mouth.

            He makes a little noise of agreement, and I can _feel_ him force every muscle, one by one, to relax. It’s an interesting feeling, to say the least. “Sleep well?” He rumbles back, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s got a bit of an accent when he’s not concentrating. Curious.

            I smile as he turns around and plants his own kiss- unfortunately only on my shoulder instead of my mouth. “Yeah. Somebody tired me out.” I tease with a grin. I hope this isn’t the last time he ‘tires me out’.

            He just rolls his eyes with a slight smile, and I dive in for his mouth. He lets me in within a second or two, and- oh, that’s just _awful._ Not the kiss itself, but- God, the night after a really good blow job _tastes_ disgusting. I feel his chest shake next to mine, and frown as I pull back. He’s doing a bad job of hiding it if he’s trying not to laugh.

            I sit all the way up, moving my hand from where it’d instinctively went, behind his head, down his back. If that’s what cum and strawberry lube tastes like- “If that’s what it tastes like, I hope you don’t mind if I use mouthwash instead of lube.”

            He huffs at me and straightens up, raising one eyebrow. “Intend on returning it, then?” He drawls, and I flush, just a little. Okay, maybe a lot. But who _wouldn’t_ want to see him writhing like that on a bed? I’m pretty sure I can deal with a bit of bad taste for _that_ particular experience. “And no, that would burn. I can pick up something minty.”

            Hopefully, mint wouldn’t taste that bad after a night in my mouth. If all else failed, I could always just bring my toothbrush and use his- or my, wherever we end up next time- bathroom. “I fully intend to.” I say, and the sun-warmed skin of his ear looks good enough to eat. I think I’ll indulge myself. “And maybe next time- a night when we don’t have to get up early?” That sounds wonderful- now that I’ve seen him like this, all I want is to have him, in whatever way he’ll let me. Early morning sex sounds wonderful, and I can only imagine how good it would be to have him slow, make it last for a while.

            He presses into me, and I’m perfectly happy to have him here, laying on me like some overgrown cat. Maybe we can stay like this for a few hours? No, I know better. He has work, I have to get a shower and go to work myself- we need to end this. “Not a bad idea. Think you can drop by on a Saturday or Sunday sometime?” He asks, and I begin to consider my schedule- I can probably leave Tauriel alone all Saturday night and most of Sunday. Thanksgiving break is starting up soon- and the fall formal is Friday. Or is it Thursday? I’ll have to check.

            “Sounds good.” I say, massaging a tense point in his arm as he stands up. He shakes out his hair and heads to the bathroom- I’m pleased I didn’t give him too much of a limp. But a little- enough to make me grin, even though I know I’m not a teenager anymore, and I shouldn’t be happy about any of his aches and pains.

            “You-“ Something changes in his voice abruptly, and I wince a little at the harsh fluorescent lights that invade the room from his bathroom. “Are a cuddler, aren’t you?” He asks, and I sigh a little.

            I grunt as I stand up, and start seeking out my clothing. The boxers are near his dresser, pants near the edge of the bed. I can only find one sock. “Consider me a giant teddy bear when I wake up.” I reply, seeing no reason to be dishonest. Then again, a lot of people absolutely _hate_ cuddling- or so I’ve heard. Then again, I heard it from the internet, and you can’t really trust _everything_ you read there. “Is that going to be a problem?” I hope not. I would be dearly disappointed if my first time waking up with him wrapped up in my arms was also the last time doing so.

            There’s silence for a minute as the water from the shower continues, and then I hear him spit. I don’t blame him- I’d like to get that taste out as soon as possible too. “Probably not. As long as you don’t mind me bringing my laptop over so I can do something while you- cuddle, or whatever.”

            I laugh before I can stop myself but stop it with one of my hands. I may be a giant teddy bear, but he is, without a doubt, an overgrown cat. “You sound like I’m imprisoning you or something.” I snicker, and lean on the bathroom door before I bother putting on my pants. He sticks his head out, and my grin widens a bit when I see some obvious disappointment. I understand- I’d like to be in that shower with him. Or just- naked in bed with him the rest of the day. It’s been too long since I’ve been in a relationship. I can’t decide if I’m being too clingy or not.

            “You’re not used to sex.” Ouch. Low blow. True, but unpleasant nonetheless. “I’m not used to waking up next to the same person I laid down beside.” That- sounds awful. And it explains at least part of the tension when he got up this morning. He probably wasn’t expecting me to actually stay. The thought is actually a physical pain- I _knew_ we were going too fast. Maybe it would have been better if we’d kept on with the slow pace we were at. Then again, this might be just what we need. I don’t want to bore him, and he has a far more interesting sex life than someone who’s close to 40 can easily keep up with. Still, you know what they say- experience will always beat youth and vigor. Then again- I don’t have the option to screw around too much, so I don’t have that much in the way of experience either. Darn.

            He steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist- what a disappointment! “Why?” I ask suddenly. I want to ask him ‘why’ so many things, but for now, whatever he’ll answer will hopefully be good enough.

            He shrugs and tosses me my pants on his way to his closet, where he starts tugging out clothing. “I don’t know. Sex is fun- relationships, not so much, usually.” It sounds like he’s been in the wrong kind of relationship. “Most of the actual relationships I have end up with fists, a hospital, and me changing out the locks.”

            That sucks- but there, at least, I know for sure that I can do better. I’ll never- oh. _Oh._ He’s suddenly naked again, and there could probably be an earthquake and I wouldn’t care. My pants are now _very_ uncomfortable.

            “Do you just- pick them up at the asshole factory?” I ask, trying not to drool- at least not as much as I think I might be. He bends over, I’m reminded of what, exactly, we did last night, and the part of my body that insists it’s still as good as it was back in my 20’s wakes _all_ the way up.

            He gives me a good once-over, and it looks like he enjoys whatever he sees. I’d be lying if I tried to pinpoint it- he’s closer to my daughter than he is to me, age-wise, and can get anyone he damn well pleases. “Bars, mostly. So yeah. Asshole factory.” Again with the drinking. I’m glad he’s trying to stop- but I’d be lying again if I said I didn’t like the idea of him hitting me up for sex in the middle of the night. Well, I like it _now_ , anyway, not when he started it.

            “You want to go out again after this?” He asks as he pulls on socks and shoes. I follow his lead, putting mine on as well- I still haven’t found the missing sock, though.

            “Yeah, sure.” I answer, wondering why the hell I _wouldn’t_. He’d all but promised me more sex- and I’ve discovered that he makes me feel young again. And actually pretty happy. Is it sad that I can imagine the two of us together for longer than Carolyn and I were married? I cut that off immediately- I _know_ that _that’s_ too fast. “You get off at seven, right? We can grab dinner, or-“ He gives me a strange little smile, and I slow down. “That wasn’t what you were talking about, was it?”

            He reaches up, kisses me- and _damn_ that alarm, I’d prefer _not_ to leave here right now. ‘ _Stop, Glorfindel, you’re being clingy.’_ I think to myself. That’s gotten me more break-ups than anything else. “No. But it was a good answer anyway.” He says, a little breathless, once I let him go.

            He practically dances around me, and I can’t help but laugh- he’s probably right, if he’s avoiding me for the reason I think he is. I probably wouldn’t let him go a second time. I find my belt and start threading it through the loops as I follow him from his room. I grumble a little anyway- the next time we do this, hopefully we’ll have a little time the next day. He unlocks a back door and turns his head to look at me. “Want to meet Daisy?”  
  
           I wonder if it’s as obvious as I think that I’m confused. “Oh, your dog?” Idiot. What else named Daisy would he be talking about. “Yeah, why not?”  
           

            He’s almost tackled by a dog almost as big as he is, and I have to fight off snickers- he talks to her like people talk to babies. Then again, apparently the dog and his bike _are_ his babies. She hops around him, and then spies me. And snarls.

            I’m not a scaredy-cat, and I don’t tend to run away from things, but there’s something about a massive scarred-up mutt growling at me that makes me a little nervous. “I don’t think she likes me.” I say, hoping that I can get out of this without losing a hand or a boyfriend. What was that saying- the dogs have to like you or I won’t?

             “No, she just doesn’t like that you’re in the house before being properly introduced.” He says, shaking his head. That sounds- faintly ridiculous, actually. “Daisy, stop.” He demands in a completely different tone of voice than normal, and the brown and black mottled beast obediently stops growling at me. She still stares, though, and I’m not confident enough to brave standing near him. I tug on my shirt as quickly as possible.

            What was the thing to do in this situation? It was either make eye contact or don’t, but if you didn’t do it right, you’d get attacked. “Now Daisy, don’t be rude. Fin, Daisy. Daisy, Fin.” He sounds for all the world like a parent with an irritated child. And to my shock, she grumbles at him as if she were one. “Bye, sweetheart!” He calls after tossing her some sort of bone, and gestures for me to follow.

            We’re halfway out of the door when I feel something large, heavy, and warm press against my leg- Daisy has put herself in between us, and looks up at Erestor sadly. “What?” He asks. “You don’t want to be nice to our guest, so I’m having to leave early.”

            Our guest? He really is acting like a parent. I find it oddly adorable. He turns around as she whines again, and he scratches behind her ears. “Are you going to be rude? If you’re not going to be rude, you can come with me to work today.”

            She suddenly turns into a stereotypical happy dog, wagging tail and tongue and all. “Okay, then say hello.” He orders, and takes my arm, lowering my hand a little. I hold out my hand, palm down. I know enough about dogs to know that it’s the proper way to greet one. “Well, Daddy’s got to go, sweetheart. Love you.” She sniffs me and licks my hand- so, as a thank you, I scratch under her chin. They both tense up, and it feels as if I’ve just entered a Mexican standoff.

            I slowly rise up. “And somehow, I still doubt that she likes me.”

            “I’m sorry- she’s not normally like this. She’ll warm up to you.” He reassures, and presses his lips against my cheek. It’s the only thing of my face he can reach with his hands on her collar. “Bye.”

            “Bye.” I respond with a smile, and leave. I snort as I hear barking follow me out. That dog really does _not_ like me. I head home after that- I need a shower myself, and there’s no word for how wrinkled my clothing is. But all in all, I feel more relaxed than I have in a while. I check my phone before pulling out of my driveway- two missed calls. One from Tauriel, one from the gym.

            I, of course, check Tauriel’s first. Apparently, a lawyer wanted to see me, and I make a mental note to call Mr. Baggins. From the gym- Turgon officially quit. Sadly, Elenwe had died on the operating table- there were some complications during the surgery. The tumors weren’t just on her liver, according to him- they were _everywhere_. So he and Idril were moving Northeast to live with family in Oklahoma for a while. I gave him a call to apologize, and later that day, went into work with a heavy heart.  


	18. I'm (not) doing just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoot, chapter 18 is up! Here's a little something from Gimli and Arwen. I hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know what you think, and don't worry, I'll have the little one-shots about them up soon, hopefully.

Friday, November 18th

                “Dad!” I yell as I come in the house. There’s no use being quiet here- there’s never any true silence.

                Bombur darts his head around the corner from the kitchen. Judging from the mop, he’s cleaning; we all have chore days, except for Aunt Dis as she’s already a maid. “With Thorin in the back.” He says, and I give him a thank-you wave before going through to the backyard.

                Bofur’s a landscaper and gardener, so despite all the problems with the inside of the house, the outside always looks good. I swear our front and backyard looks like something out of Better Homes and Gardens. As promised, Uncle Thorin (who actually isn’t my uncle, just as Aunt Dis isn’t my aunt) is sitting outside on a bench, made by myself as a time-waster. We had to tear down the old shed- massive termite infestation- and all that was left were old steel beams and a refrigerator that hadn’t seen the light of day since my grandmother got it 50-something years ago. It looks tacky to me- all recycled metal that Ori and Nori gave a good paint job- but the family loves it. My Dad’s beside him, and is showing him papers for- something. But he’s talking about money, and that’s never a good sign.

                It hasn’t been a good sign since the recession.

                “Hey!” I call, and Dad beams at me, waving me over. Uncle Thorin nods, and he’s got- oddly enough- a smile on his face. I can’t remember the last time Uncle Thorin smiled. Probably before Fili and Kili’s dad, Vili, died in the war, and he lost his business thanks to a fire.

                “Gimli, son, I think we may have good news for once.” He says brightly, and despite my disbelief, I grin back. Sometimes- sometimes living in poverty isn’t too bad. Generally, we can find the good in anything.

                “Oh yeah? So do I.” I respond. “You first.”

                I plop down on the other side of Uncle Thorin, and Dad passes over some papers. “Well, you know those applications I’ve been passing out? I found an accountant job for the hotel near where you work- Minas Tirith.”

                “That’s great!” I say, and I really mean it- any extra income is good. He used to be the owner of a local bank- but if he’s fine just being an accountant for now, I’m happy for him. Besides, we may be able to carpool. And didn’t Kili mention something about going to school with one of the owner’s sons?

                Uncle Thorin. “Yes, Gloin’s job is good luck.” He pauses- (Kili and Fili tease him about his ‘ _majestic’_ pauses, and I have to fight a snicker). “And Dori, Bombur, and I are moving out.”

                I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped- it was Uncle Thorin who kept us from true homelessness by suggesting that we all live together, Uncle Thorin who made the rules that kept us from killing one another. “You’re going? Where? Why?”

                I manage to stop myself before I ask a third question, and he chuckles. My Dad fills me in. “The land and house is paid for- all the others have to do is pay the property taxes, and Bofur and Dis make more than enough to cover that. I’ll be able to buy all the groceries, too, so that will be taken care of.”

                Thorin leans back, propping his elbows on the table behind us. “I’m opening up the old café again, Bombur’s agreed to be my chef. Dori’s to be a barista, at least until he gets another job. We bought a place, all three of us- restaurant on the bottom, house on top.”

                I tangle one hand in my beard- a habit I have when I’m nervous. “So- when’s it opening? And where is it?”

                “Remember the old sandwich shop on the corner of 23rd and Main? About a block from the college?”

                I nod.

                “It’ll be there, and we’ve signed the papers today; we’re opening in six weeks.”

                “Well- that’s great.”

                Thorin doesn’t seem to notice anything odd, but my Dad gives me a strange look. “Balin’s going to be taking the basement, Bofur’s going to share a room with Balin, and you can have Thorin’s old room- no more sleeping with the kids.”

                I have to laugh about that. “Well, you might as well give it to Bifur.”

                They both look at me oddly- it’s no news that I don’t like sharing a room. “I got accepted at the college- my tuition and books are paid for.” Somehow, I thought I’d be talking privately to Dad about this first, but I suppose it has to come out sometime. Still, anyone would be nervous under Uncle Thorin’s glare, and I’ve never lived alone.”

                “Good, but you’ll need somewhere to come back to.” Thorin says, and I realize I left it too long.

                “Yeah, I- I’ll still need to use the washer and dryer, but I’ve got room and board too.”

                Something in my Dad’s face freezes up, though Thorin is nodding. “Not bad. Make sure you don’t stay right by the bathroom- worst place in a men’s dorm.” He advises, and I make note of that.

                “They said I’m going to have one in the middle of the ha-“

                “You didn’t think to _talk_ to me about this first?” My Dad demands, flushed in anger and glaring.

                I blink, shocked. “Da, I had to sign the papers today, and it’s not like any of us have phones. Besides, walking from here to the college was bad enough- I can’t do that every day and actually get to my classes _and_ work.”

                He scowls, but Thorin jumps in. “Come on, Gloin- it’s a few semesters, and it’ll give him a chance to get that truck.”

                He huffs. “Don’t get me wrong, boy, it makes sense. I just don’t like that you made this decision without the family.”

                I shrug. “Sorry, Dad, but I need the space.”

                That was the wrong thing to say. “SPACE? We have tried our BEST to provide for you, Kili, and Fili, and you need _space?_ Is this why you’re moving?”

                “I told you the reason!” I yell right back. “But yes, having some room to breathe would-“

                “Do you just ignore what we’ve done?”

                “Gloin, you’re overreacting just a-“

                “Thorin, back _off._ He’s not your son.”

                Those black brows climb his face, and the glare intensifies. “So, you are berating him for making do the best he can, when we’ve been doing nothing else?”

                Dad’s looking absolutely vicious at this point, so I stand up. “Allright, Dad. Want to take me by the college tomorrow? Explain that even though we _still_ don’t have enough room to hold the people we already have, and this is the only way I’ll be able to _make_ my classes, I can’t because my _DAD DIDN’T GIVE_ his 19 year-old son _PERMISSION?”_

He’s practically foaming at the mouth, and it looks like we’ve gained an audience of the rest of the family. Dad shoves rudely by Bifur, and heads into the house, slamming the door behind him. Dis frowns.

                “Thorin, Gimli- that could have been handled better, and you _both_ know it.”

                Thorin sighs as I fume. “He’s too controlling, and you know it.”

                “I do, but that hardly- and where do you think _you’re_ going?” Aunt Dis asks as I try to get to the back gate.

                I glare at her. “I don’t know. Out.”

                She shakes her head. “You go out with your temper like that, you’ll go looking for trouble. And with our luck, you’ll find it.”

                Thorin grumbles and brushes past her into the house. She crooks a finger at me, and I follow- within a moment, she has the entire house in the basement or in their rooms, and we sit down in the kitchen. She heaves out a sigh and buries her face in her hands. I take a moment to look at her, trying to brush past that famous Durinson anger.

                She used to have smooth hands. Got a manicure every second Saturday. Now, her nails are cracked and unpainted. Her hands are callused and wrinkled. She had black hair, just like her brother. Now, just like Uncle Thorin, there are streaks of silver in there. Unlike Thorin, though, her hair is mostly silver instead of black. It’s rough- I remember it used to be shiny, ink-black, soft as silk. Now she doesn’t go to the salon every second Saturday, right before her manicure. Her face was perfect too, always. I know it’s makeup now, but when I was a kid, I didn’t know how she went into the bathroom plain old Aunt Dis and came out looking like a model. She doesn’t spend money on makeup anymore.

                I think she nearly cried when I gave her a makeup kit from Avon for mothers’ day a few years back when I was working for the logging company and made good money. Even back then- everybody was losing their jobs or being forced to work fewer hours, and I just happened to be the one with the best paying job.

                She sighs heavily and props her face on her now-closed fists. The corners of her eyes and lips have thick wrinkles, and there are bags underneath her eyes. “Talk to me, Gimli.” She says, and when she reaches a hand out to brush a strand of red hair behind my ear, I’m taken back to the days just after my mom left, and Aunt Dis used to come to my room when I wanted her- before I realized that mom had left permanently and wasn’t coming back. New England, I think, or New Jersey. Some state with New in it.

                “I’m trying to take care of you.” I say honestly. “And Kili and Fili, and Dad, and Bifur, and everyone else here. This is the only way I can do it.”

                She meets my eyes for a moment- she has brown eyes, like my Dad and me. “You shouldn’t have to.”

                I have to look away. “Well, I do.”

                “I know. Doesn’t give you an excuse to yell at Gloin like that, though.”

                I groan. “C’mon, Aunt Dis, he just doesn’t get it- he isn’t even _trying_.”

                “I know.” She says, and taps her hands on the laminate counter-top for a moment.

                “How do you feel about living with my brother until the school semester starts?”

                I shake my head. “We haven’t even asked Uncle Thorin about it, he might say no.”

                She gives me a look that says ‘idiot’ and raises an eyebrow. “Have you _ever_ known your Uncle Thorin to say no to something like that? Besides, he’s on your side- and you know how he is.”

                I snort. Durinson pride- he’d never be able to let my Dad ‘win’, meaning that he’d have to do anything to keep me in college and living in the dorms once school started.

                “Okay. I guess I better find him.”

                “And your dad.” She reminds me.

                I sigh. “And my Dad.”

                Friday, November 18th

                “What are you looking at?” I ask, and Tauriel starts. That’s a rarity- she’s usually pretty perceptive about her surroundings.

                She holds up a few booklets and I plop down next to her at the table usually kept for the jocks. “Thinking about taking some classes?”

                “Yeah, I talked to Legolas- occasionally, Dad helps out at the college for extra cash, and we figured we could take some courses this summer. Just the basics.”

                I flick through, noting the circled marks. “That’s not a bad idea. I might do something like it to get all the math and stuff out of the way.”

                She nods and flicks her long braid across a shoulder before popping a french fry in her mouth. I lean over and steal one, earning a snort.

                “So what brings you over here?” She asks, and I shrug. I usually move where I sit regularly, unlike her.

                “Oh, I thought it was high time you and the boys got something pretty to look at.” I tease, and she laughs.

                “Uh-huh? Allright. I’ll pretend that this isn’t about Aragorn.”

                “SSSSHHHH!” I hiss, smacking her shoulder. It hurts my hand more than it hurts her, probably. “He’ll hear you!”

                Tauriel snorts at me, and stands up. Immediately, Aragorn and Kili look over. She waves them off and wraps an entirely-too-friendly arm around my shoulder. I fight off laughter. Tauriel and Kili- who would’ve thought? “You haven’t gotten him something from his birthday yet?” She asks as soon as we’re away from the table. She leans up against a pillar and I stand across from her.

                “I’ve gotten his card, and something really cute that he’ll like only because I got it for him,” I begin, knowing it’s true- it’s also why he has a Hello Kitty air freshener in his car. “But I want to get him something really good. It’s our two-year anniversary!”

                She cocked her head, and I roll my eyes at her. “He asked me out on his birthday, on the fall formal, and we’ve been dating ever since. Anyway- I narrowed it down to a few things, and I need to know some guy things he wants. And you’re pretty much a guy, so I figured I’d ask you first.”

                She huffs. “If only more people thought like that. Remember that bow in the Laketown hunting supply store? The green and brown one?”

                “Yeah.” I confirm.

                “That’s what he wants the most, and nobody’s got him that yet.”

                “Thank you!” I cry, embracing her. I pull back. “Wait, but what did you mean by you wish everybody thought you-“ Unfortunately, the lunch bell rang, interrupting us as everybody started to leave. “Tau!” I shout, but she makes no sign of hearing me. Rolling my eyes, I head to class.

                It’s Biology III, my last science before I graduate, and my Papa is the teacher. Some people might think that’s cool. Those people plainly haven’t had the experience of their father knowing their grades and being unable to hide progress reports. Generally, my grades are good, but math nearly ruined me until Aragorn told me about his genius friend, Faramir.

                Before he gets in, I turn to my left out of habit- and bite my lips. Dan and Ro aren’t sitting in the desks beside me- and they won’t for a few weeks, until their suspension is over. I don’t know what I can do for them- I’ve tried everything, but like my Papa always says, only they can control themselves. And they won’t.

                The worst part, I think as class starts, is that I used to know everything about them. We were less twins and more triplets- but they don’t tell me anything anymore. I just can’t wait to get out of this town. I fight back tears as I look down at my textbook. We’re not going to be able to talk for a while. Once this school year is over- military school. And I don’t think they’re going to call home just for me.

                They haven’t done that in a long time. We haven’t been a family for a long time. I square my shoulders and look up. They don’t want me in their life? Fine. I’m completely unbothered by the fact that I’ll be in college by the time they’re out. Totally cool.

                Who am I kidding? There’s not enough makeup in the world to disguise the truth.

 

 

                I’m not okay.

 

 

 


End file.
